I 


<0  Hi  ro  /a  IWF  i  M  r 


Hilda  Lane's  Adoptions 


By 

ALICE  McALILLY 

AUTHOR  OF  "TERRA  COTTA" 
AND  "HERCULES  CARLSON" 


CINCINNATI :    JENNINGS  AND  GRAHAM 
NEW  YORK:    EATON  AND  MAINS 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  BY 
JENNINGS   AND    GRAHAM 


c* 

Jffatltw 


2137322 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  HILDA'S  SECRET  (Prologue),  -  7 

II.  AT  PAYSON  BEND,      -  -21 

III.  A  REJECTED  GUEST,  25 

IV.  HILDA  LANE'S  DISCOVERY,  -       40 
V.  A  NEW  ADOPTION,  48 

VI.  A  VAIN  PROTEST,       -  -       54 

VII.  A  BATTLE  OVER  THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES,    65 

VIII.  A  MORNING  IN  MAY,  84 

IX.  A  REVELATION,  100 

X.  A  SHADOWED  DAY,  -     112 

XI.  AN  EPISODE,  126 

XII.  PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY,  -     139 

XIII.  AT  THE  TOWN  HALL,      -  154 

XIV.  AN  UNFORTUNATE  ENCOUNTER,   -  -     166 
XV.   OTHER  JOURNEYS,  -  173 

XVI.  THE  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE,  -     184 

XVII.   LIBERTY  DESPARD'S  CALL,        -  192 

XVIII.  AT  THE  RADCLIFFE  PLANTATION  HOUSE,    199 

XIX.  THE  DINNER  GUEST,       -  214 

XX.  ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH,        227 

XXI.  A  LATE  CALLER,    -  246 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXII.  THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT,  -     259 

XXIII.  ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE,  278 

XXIV.  A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION,    -         -     287 
XXV.   REWARDS  OF  FAITH,  303 

XXVI.  A  BROKEN  CONTRACT,  -     313 

XXVII.  CUPID'S  AFFAIRS,   -  331 

XXVIII.  FELICITIES,  -     346 

XXIX.   RECOGNITION,  354 

XXX.  HEARTENING  PROSPECTS,    -  -     368 


Hilda  Lane's  Adoptions 
16 


I. 
HILDA'S  SECRET. 


ONE  afternoon  in  the  thrilling  sixties,  just  after 
the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  a  handsome  girl  of  twenty 
galloped  a  young  sorrel  up  the  by-road  leading  to 
the  Lane  farmhouse.  Stopping  at  the  pasture  gate 
she  slid  down  from  the  bare  back  of  the  horse,  re- 
moved its  bridle,  and  let  it  into  the  pasture,  where 
it  promptly  kicked  up  its  heels,  whinnied  to  its  mates, 
and  gayly  led  an  impromptu  race  around  the  field 
with  a  red  heifer,  a  black  mule,  and  two  gray  work 
horses.  The  girl  ran  lightly  along  the  path  to  the 
house,  where  her  mother  awaited  her  at  the  kitchen 
door. 

"I  'm  glad  you  've  got  home,  Hilda,"  said  the 
woman,  eagerly.  "The  tin  peddler  's  coming  across 
the  field  from  Hilton's,  and  I  want  you  to  fetch  the 
rags  from  the  garret.  There  's  near  fifty  pounds, 
I  reckon.  We  'd  as  well  swap  them  for  tin  cups  and 
pie  pans,  had  n't  we  ?" 

7 


8  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"You  come  in  and  sit  down  in  the  rocking-chair, 
mother — you  're  all  of  a  tremble.  I  'd  get  the  rags 
down,  but  that  is  n't  the  tin  peddler.  It 's  Jim  Fer- 
ril's  chicken  wagon,  and  we  have  n't  any  chickens  to 
sell  just  now." 

"Well,  I  '11  declare.  I  thought  sure  it  was  the 
tin  peddler.  I  guess  I  will  sit  down  and  rest  a  bit 
while  you  tell  me  what 's  going  on  at  Mr.  Payson's." 

"Sakes  alive,  mother,  you  ought  to  see  Jerry.  He 
was  n't  home  yet  when  I  got  there,  but  Lem  Hall 
and  Bud  Simms  brought  him  about  ten  o'clock.  He 
looks  worse  than  I  thought  he  would.  He  had  on  a 
fine  uniform,  a  new  one  they  gave  him  when  he  left 
the  hospital ;  but  of  course  one  sleeve  flopped  round 
where  his  right  arm  is  off,  and  with  one  leg  gone 
and  one  eye  out  it 's  hard  to  believe  it  is  Jerry. 
Peggy  choked  up  and  nearly  dropped  little  Lina 
when  she  saw  him  standing  there  on  the  front  porch, 
with  Lem  propping  him  on  one  side  and  Bud  on  the 
other,  while  he  held  out  his  left  hand  to  his  father. 
I  suppose  Peggy  was  thinking  of  her  husband,  too, 
and  wishing  he  had  lived  to  come  home ;  but  I  'd 
rather  be  poor  Henry  Strong,  killed  outright  and 
done  with  the  misery  of  it,  than  to  be  like  Jerry, 
bound  to  live  helpless  the  rest  of  his  days." 

"I  do  say,  Hilda,  it 's  mighty  hard  for  Mr.  Pay- 
son  to  have  his  only  son  come  home  from  the  army 
butchered  up  that  way." 

"Yes,  it  is.  But  Mr.  Payson  has  such  an  unfeel- 
ing way  sometimes.  He  yelled  out,  'Why,  howdy, 
howdy,  Jerry!  Looks  like  you're  sort  of  cut  up, 


HILDA'S  SECRET.  9 

ain't  you  ?  Short  a  peeper  and  a  couple  of  timbers, 
looks  like !  But  golly,  boy,  I  'm  just  as  proud  of  you 
as  if  you  'd  come  home  with  forty  peepers  and  ten 
legs  and  arms!'  Think  of  that,  mother,  and  poor 
Jerry  trying  to  swallow  his  feelings  the  best  way  he 
could." 

"Well,  that 's  just  Mr.  Payson's  way.  He  'd  die 
off  directly  if  he  could  n't  talk  more  than  is  comfort- 
able for  folks.  But  how  did  Mrs.  Payson  take  it? 
And  how  did  you  and  Peggy  act  ?" 

"Why,  I  told  you  Peggy  nearly  fainted  when  she 
saw  Jerry.  She  couldn't  look  anywhere  but  the 
places  where  something  was  off,  and  her  hand  was 
as  limp  as  cotton  when  she  held  it  out  to  him.  But 
Mrs.  Payson  did  n't  act  like  anything  was  out  of 
fix  with  Jerry.  She  kept  looking  at  his  good  eye, 
and  leaned  up  close  to  his  good  side  so  he  could  put 
his  arm  round  her,  and  then  she  pulled  his  face  down 
to  hers  and  kissed  him  steady  for  a  minute  or  two, 
and  all  she  said  was,  'There  's  c'hicken  pot-pie  for 
dinner,  Jerry,  and  plenty  of  it !'  But  she  busted  out 
crying  then,  and  Jerry  got  white  and  shaky  and  he 
busted  out  crying,  and  all  the  rest  of  us  broke  down 
too — nobody  knows  what  for." 

"Well,  it  must  have  been  a  mighty  feeling  time 
for  all  of  them,  Hilda.  I  don't  know  as  I  blame 
them  for  crying  at  such  a  time.  Poor  Mrs.  Payson 
is  n't  one  to  say  much,  but  she  's  deep-hearted  and 
knew  Jerry  would  understand  how  she  felt  without 
many  words.  She  let  out  about  the  chicken  pot-pie 
so  he  'd  know  she  remembered  his  favorite  dish,  and 


io  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

sort  of  spoke  her  feelings  that  way.  But  you  have  n't 
let  on  how  you  acted  yet,  but  seeing  that  you  're  only 
a  neighbor  girl — " 

"Do  n't  talk  that  way,  mother.  You  know  I  felt 
bad  enough.  I  did  n't  show  myself  till  Jerry's  own 
folks  got  done  making  him  welcome." 

"What  did  you  say  then?" 

"I  have  n't  anything  to  brag  on.  I  felt  terrible, 
but  I  did  n't  act  as  I  felt.  I  tried  to  look  cheerful 
when  I  took  hold  of  Jerry's  hand  and  said,  'I  'm 
mighty  glad  you  've  got  home  again,  Jerry.  It 
has  n't  been  so  pleasant  since  you  went  away.' " 

"What  did  Jerry  say  to  that?" 

"Sakes  alive,  mother,  you  're  dreadful  curious, 
are  n't  you  ?  I  do  n't  remember  just  what  he  did 
say,  but  he  gave  my  hand  a  yank  that  made  me 
squirm  because  of  my  rings  being  on  that  hand. 
You  have  n't  forgotten  that  Jerry  made  both  of  these 
rings,  have  you?  He  made  the  black  one  out  of  a 
button  and  the  silver  one  out  of  a  dime  the  last  year 
we  were  both  in  school.  He  was  handy  with  his 
knife  then,  but  he  's  done  with  all  that  now." 

"Yes,  I  reckon  so,  poor  fellow.  But  speaking  of 
the  last  year  you  went  to  school  makes  me  think  of 
a  thing  I  've  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about,  Hilda. 
I  've  got  a  feeling  that  your  father  and  me  did  n't 
do  right  in  taking  you  out  of  school  when  we  did. 
You  never  did  have  much  chance  at  the  best  when 
you  were  growing  up,  having  to  stay  out  to  help 
with  the  fall  and  spring  work  every  year.  You  was 
smart,  though,  and  learned  fast  when  you  did  have 


HIU>A'S  SECRET.  n 

a  chance,  if  I  do  say  it.  But  your  father  started 
poor,  and  set  out  to  get  well  fixed  before  he  died — 
and  he  did.  When  a  Lane  sets  out  to  do  a  thing 
it 's  bound  to  be  done ;  but  your  father  killed  him- 
self off  with  hard  work,  and  me  too  nearly,  besides 
spoiling  your  chance  to  be  something  more  than  a 
farmer  girl.  Well,  poor  man,  he  got  things  fixed 
about  as  he  wanted  them  at  last,  but  too  late  to  do 
him  much  good.  He  left  us  full-handed,  Hilda ;  and 
now  the  war  's  over  and  things  are  settling  down 
again  I  want  you  to  spunk  up  and  go  off  to  school — 
to  college  or  wherever  you  'd  like.  You  are  n't  too 
old  to  learn  a  heap  yet.  I  used  to  think  you  and 
Jerry  Payson  were  going  to  make  a  hitch  of  it,  but 
now  he  's  come  home  from  the  army  in  such  a  fix 
I  reckon  he  '11  have  to  give  up  getting  married  for 
good  and  all.  No  girl  in  her  senses  would  want  him 
now,  that  about  half  of  him  is  in  the  grave.  Now 
what  are  you  crying  that  way  for,  Hilda?" 

"Sakes  alive,  mother,  I  can't  bear  to  hear  you 
talk  so  cold-hearted  about  Jerry.  He  'd  be  worth 
more  than  a  dozen  others  if  both  of  his  legs  and  arms 
were  off !" 

"Hilda,  Hilda,  I  was  afraid  things  were  that  way 
with  you.  But  I  '11  be  plain-spoken — I  'd  hat'e  to  see 
you  marry  Jerry  the  way  he  is  now.  Why,  your 
father  would  sit  up  in  his  grave  and  fight  against 
it  if  he  knew  it." 

"I  reckon  there  won't  be  any  call  for  him  to  sit 
up  in  his  grave  on  that  account.  Not  but  what  I  'd 
have  Jerry  quick  enough  if  he  'd  ask  me." 


12  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Land  o'  mercy,  Hilda,  it  isn't  hardly  modest 
for  a  girl  to  talk  that  way !" 

"I  don't  know  as  a  body  ougtit  to  say  that  it 
is  n't  modest  for  a  girl  to  tell  her  own  mother  how 
she  feels." 

"Well,  I  suppose  not.  Then  it  was  on  Jerry's 
account  that  you  gave  the  mitten  to  Andy  Peters 
and  Bud  Sims  and  Lem  Hall  ?  You  would  have  done 
well  to  take  Lem — he  '11  be  full-handed  when  the 
old  folks  die  off." 

"When  a  body  is  picking  a  husband  there 's 
things  to  think  of  besides  money,  mother.  I  loved 
Jerry — I  do  yet." 

"But  did  n't  Jerry  ever  come  to  the  point  when 
he  was  galavanting  round  with  you  to  singing- 
schools  and  apple-peelings,  and  sitting  up  in  the 
front  room  with  you  of  Sunday  nights?" 

"He  never  said  anything  right  out  till  the  night 
before  he  went  off  to  the  army." 

"What  did  he  say  then,  Hilda  ?  I  'd  like  to  know 
how  he  made  out  to  get  to  the  point  at  last." 

"Sakes  alive,  mother,  you  're  mighty  particular. 
I  reckon  there  's  no  harm  in  telling,  but  it  is  n't  easy. 
He  had  come  over  to  tell  me  good-bye,  and  we  were 
sitting  on  the  front  steps  when  he  said,  'There  's  just 
one  thing  that  makes  me  hate  to  go  off  to  the  army, 
Hilda — I  'm  afraid  you  '11  forget  me.'  'O,  I  guess 
not/  I  said.  'Maybe  you  '11  be  married  by  the  time 
I  get  back,'  he  said.  'No  danger  of  that,'  I  said. 
Well,  then  Jerry  got  hold  of  my  hand,  and — well, 
after  a  while  he  laughed  a  little  and  said,  'You  '11 


HILDA'S  SECRET.  13 

get  married  mighty  quick  after  I  get  back  if  I  have 
my  way  about  it.'  Well,  just  then  Andy  Peters 
came  around  the  corner  of  the  house  and  lopped 
down  on  the  steps,  and  there  he  staid  for  want  of 
better  sense.  Jerry  had  to  make  the  start  home  at 
last,  but  after  they  had  got  down  to  the  road  he 
came  running  back,  and  says  he :  'Andy  spoilt  our 
talk,  Hilda ;  but  I  won't  go  without  telling  you  that 
I  love  you.  I  won't  tie  you  up  to  any  promise,  but 
I  '11  send  you  a  gold  ring  as  soon  as  I  can  get  one, 
and  if  you  love  me  and  are  willing  to  marry  me 
when  I  get  back,  why  you  just  be  wearing  that  gold 
ring  the  first  time  I  see  you  after  the  war  is  over.' 
Well,  that  tormenting  Andy  Peters  had  followed 
back  by  that  time,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  squeeze 
Jerry's  hand  and  said  good-bye." 

"Did  the  gold  ring  ever  come  ?" 

"No ;  and  never  a  word  to  tell  why.  But  Jerry 
was  n't  the  one  to  say  a  thing  he  did  n't  mean,  and 
I  know  there  was  a  mighty  good  reason  of  some  sort 
that  hindered  him.  Of  course,  I  can't  ask  him  about 
it ;  I  'd  die  first,  and  it  is  n't  likely  he  '11  ever  say 
marry  to  me  or  any  one  else  now.  But  in  spite  of  the 
sin  of  it,  I  can't  help  believing  that  Andy  Peters  is 
at  the  bottom  of  things.  Do  n't  you  remember  how 
he  kept  coming,  to  see  me  every  Sunday  after  Jerry 
went  away?  And  how  he  would  bring  our  mail 
every  day  in  the  face  of  my  wishes  ?  Well,  mother, 
he  asked  me  to  have  him  time  and  time  again,  till  I 
got  so  provoked  at  last  that  I  told  him  I  would  n't 
marry  him  if  he  was  the  only  man  on  earth.  He  got 


14  HIU>A  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

flaming  mad  then,  and  swore  he  knew  who  was  be- 
tween him  and  me,  and  that  he  was  going  off  and 
join  the  rebel  army  just  to  get  a  chance  and  the  right 
to  shoot  Jerry  Payson.  I  knew  he  was  with  the 
South  in  heart,  but  I  did  n't  think  he  would  be  such 
a  fool  as  to  join  the  rebel  army,  but  he  did.  Lem 
Hall  got  a  letter  from  him  yesterday,  and  he 's  com- 
ing home  this  week.  I  should  think  he  would  be 
ashamed  to  show  his  face  around  here.  But,  sakes 
alive,  he  has  n't  any  feelings  to  speak  of." 

"Do  n't  be  too  hard  on  Andy,  Hilda.  He  has  had 
a  hard  row  to  hoe  all  his  life  life,  you  know." 

"Not  a  bit  harder  than  lots  of  other  fellows  that 
have  got  grit  enough  to  act  like  men  in  spite  of 
things  that  are  n't  to  their  liking.  It  always  did  rile 
me  to  have  Andy  sit  round  and  whine  because  the 
stumps  in  his  field  caught  the  plow  and  jerked  him ; 
and  he  'd  say  he  was  n't  going  to  kill  himself  raising 
a  crop.  Then  in  the  fall  he  'd  whine  because  his  corn 
was  all  nubbins,  when  everybody  knew  he  had  only 
made  out  to  scratch  between  the  rows  a  little,  and 
then  left  the  corn  and  weeds  to  tussle  for  right  of 
way  the  rest  of  the  season.  Why  did  n't  he  get  down 
to  work  and  grub  the  stumps  out  like  other  men  do  ? 
I  take  it  that  whining  ought  to  be  left  to  babies 
and  sick  women.  I  like  a  man  that  lifts  his  feet 
and  makes  the  dust  fly  when  he  sets  them  down.  It 
riles  me  just  to  see  Andy  drag  his  feet  along  one 
after  the  other  as  if  they  were  dead  loads." 

"Why,  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  heard  you  talk 
so  aggravated  like,  Hilda.  I  reckon  Jerry  won't 


HILDA'S  SECRET.  15 

kick  up  much  dust  from  this  on.  But  let 's  get  back 
to  your  schooling." 

"No,  Jerry  won't  kick  up  much  dust,  mother; 
but  when  you  hear  him  Whine  over  his  bad  luck,  just 
let  me  know  it.  As  for  my  schooling — are  you  want- 
ing to  get  rid  of  me  ?" 

"Now  you  know  better  than  that,  Hilda.  I  do  n't 
know  how  to  live  without  you  hardly." 

"Why  could  n't  you  go  and  stay  with  me  ?" 

"Land  o'  mercy,  I  could  n't  leave  the  old  place. 
I  came  here  a  bride,  and  I  could  n't  eat  or  sleep  in 
peace  anywhere  else.  No,  no,  Hilda ;  I  do  n't  want 
to  leave  here  till  I  'm  taken  to  Crown  Hill  for  good 
and  all.  Do  n't  ask  it  of  me." 

"Do  n't  fret ;  I  only  asked  to  see  what  you  'd  say. 
I  know  how  you  feel.  Almost  the  last  thing  father 
said  before  he  died,  was  for  me  to  take  good  care 
of  you  and  never  let  anything  part  us  while  you 
lived.  I  told  him  I  'd  stick  to  you  till  Gabriel  blew 
his  trumpet  for  one  or  the  other  of  us.  Well,  you 
know  I  'm  not  one  to  break  my  word,  mother." 

"Yes,  I  know — that 's  the  Lane  in  you.  But  my 
mind  would  be  easier  if  you  'd  give  yourself  a  chance 
to  spruce  up  and  be  somebody,  now  that  the  way  is 
clear.  What  is  the  use  to  be  full-handed  if  a  body 
do  n't  get  the  good  of  it  ?  Jdhn  Gibbs  is  doing  well 
with  the  land  and  stock  now,  and  I  could  get  Maggie 
Baker  to  stay  with  me." 

"I  have  n't  any  call  to  be  a  fine  lady,  mother.  I 
told  you  what  Jerry  said  that  night, — well,  after  he 
went  away  I  sat  out  on  the  steps  and  thought  of 


1 6  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

things,  and  I  gave  myself  to  Jerry,  heart  and  soul, 
right  then  and  there.  I  Ve  got  as  much  schooling 
as  he  has,  and  I  do  n't  want  to  get  beyond  him.  I 
don't  know  what  came  between  him  and  me  after 
that  night,  but  I  do  know  he  meant  what  he  said. 
I  feel  it  now  the  same  as  then.  I  was  mighty  happy 
— as  happy  as  any  girl  could  be,  I  reckon,  and  when 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  Jerry's  wife  I  gave  up 
other  things  I  had  hoped  for.  I  used  to  want  to 
learn  enough  to  be  a  schoolteacher,  or  a  writer  of 
books,  or  a  great  traveler ;  but  that 's  past.  I  '11  tell 
you  my  secret,  mother :  I  'm  going  to  stay  right  here 
and  be  true  to  Jerry  Payson  till  Gabriel  blows  his 
trumpet  for  me.  But  I  '11  never  let  on  how  I  feel." 

"I  'd  just  as  well  give  up  then,  Hilda,  but  it 's 
mighty  disappointing,"  said  Mrs.  Lane,  wiping  her 
eyes  on  the  hem  of  her  calico  apron.  "I  wish  you 
were  n't  so  set.  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  miserable 
all  your  days  on  account  of  Jerry.  You  're  good- 
looking  and  smart  and  full-handed.  I  wish  you 
could  spunk  up  and  not  mope  and  fret  for  a  half- 
dead  fellow  when  the  country's  full  of  better 
chances." 

"I  don't  mean  to  mope  and  fret.  I  can't  be 
Jerry's  wife,  but  I  can  do  my  best  to  live  happy  and 
make  it  pleasant  for  those  about  me.  Things  might 
have  been  worse — Jerry  might  have  been  killed.  I 
mean  worse  for  me — it  would  be  easier  for  him  to 
be  dead.  He  '11  have  to  be  braver,  and  face  worse 
things  than  the  cannons  and  bullets  he  faced  in  the 
army.  But  no  one  will  ever  know  how  it  hurts  him 


HILDA'S  SECRET.  17 

to  be  tied  down  to  a  chair  the  rest  of  his  days.  I 
take  it  God 's  at  the  head  of  things  and  knows 
what 's  best ;  and  I  take  it,  too,  that  a  woman's  love 
is  n't  worth  much  if  it  do  n't  stand  by  a  man  that 
got  crippled  doing  his  duty  to  his  country.  I  have  n't 
got  what  Jerry  has  to  bear  up  under ;  but  I  '11  take 
what 's  fallen  to  my  share  and  never  blink.  I  mean 
to  keep  on  doing  my  duty  by  you,  mother ;  but  that 
won't  keep  me  busy,  and  I  Ve  made  up  my  mind  to 
try  the  adoption  business  if  you  're  willing.  We  're 
full-handed,  and  I  believe  that  people  that  have  more 
than  they  need  of  the  comforts  of  life  ought  to  divide 
with  them  that  are  needy  and  helpless.  I  mean  to 
get  my  pleasure  out  of  my  share  of  what  we  Ve  got 
just  that  way." 

"Land  o'  mercy,  Hilda,  where  will  you  get  any- 
body to  adopt?" 

"Well,  that 's  what  I  came  home  so  early  to  talk 
to  you  about.  Mr.  Pay  son  was  telling  at  the  dinner 
table  about  the  Widow  Ritchie  down  in  the  log  house 
this  side  of  the  Hunt  timber,  you  know.  She  is  bed- 
fast with  consumption,  and  her  ten-year-old  boy, 
Sammy,  has  to  make  the  living  for  her  and  a  nine- 
year-old  girl.  Sammy  won't  be  able  to  get  work 
enough  to  keep  them  from  starving  when  the  apple- 
picking  and  corn-shucking  season  is  over,  and  the 
neighbors  are  trying  to  have  the  family  sent  to  the 
poorhouse  before  cold  weather  sets  in.  But  Mrs. 
Ritchie  won't  give  up  to  it.  She  says  she  is  willing 
to  go  herself,  if  need  be,  but  she  do  n't  want  her  chil- 
dren there.  She  wants  to  find  homes  for  them 


1 8  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

among  the  farmers  here.  Well,  I  did  n't  let  on  to 
the  Paysons,  but  I  loped  the  sorrel  horse  down  there 
before  I  came  home,  and  took  a  look  at  the  family. 
I  thought  we  might  take  one  of  the  children." 

"What  sort  of  youngsters  are  they  ?" 

"Well,  the  little  girl  has  a  mop  and  tangle  of 
dun-colored  hair  and  is  wild  acting,  but  her  eyes  are 
sore  and  she  's  half  starved,  so  it  is  n't  a  fair  time 
to  judge  how  she  would  look  if  she  had  a  chance. 
You  have  seen  Sammy.  He  came  to  the  kitchen 
door  and  asked  the  way  to  Hilton's  last  week.  He 
was  going  there  to  shuck  corn.  Do  n't  you  remem- 
ber?— he  kept  looking  at  the  cookies  I  had  just 
baked,  and  you  took  and  gave  him  a  handful." 

"Land  o'  mercy,  Hilda,  not  that  bench-legged 
little  fellow,  with  hair  like  rope  yarns  and  face  as 
speckled  as  a  guinea  egg?" 

"Yes,  that 's  Sammy.  He  can't  help  his  looks, 
poor  little  man.  He  has  got  enough  bearing  down 
on  him  to  make  his  legs  bow  worse  than  they  do. 
He  works  hard,  and  is  doing  the  best  he  can  for  his 
folks ;  that  goes  a  long  ways  with  me.  That 's  the 
sort  I  like  to  help — they  're  worth  helping  because 
they  're  the  salt  of  the  earth,  I  take  it." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but — I  reckon  the  girl  would  be 
more  company  for  us,  and  maybe  she  is  n't  so  bow- 
legged.  It's  a  job  to  take  a  child  and  raise  it  up 
right,  and  a  body  can  love  a  pretty  looking  one 
easier.  But  which  one  did  you  set  your  mind  on, 
Hilda?" 

"I  couldn't  pick  one,  mother.     Mrs.  Ritchie  is 


HIUJA'S  SECRET.  19 

just  skin  and  bones.  It 's  a  sin  to  part  that  dying 
woman  from  her  children,  and  besides,  you  know 
what  the  board  and  bed  are  likely  to  be  at  the  poor- 
house.  Suppose  it  was  you  or  me,  mother,  in  such 
a  fix.  I  think  women  ought  to  have  feelings  for 
each  other.  We  're  full-handed,  and  Mrs.  Ritchie 
is  n't  long  for  this  world.  I  'd  get  pleasure  out  of 
adopting  the  lot  of  them,  if  you  're  willing." 

"Land  o'  mercy,  Hilda,  that  appears  like  a 
mighty  big  adoption  for  a  girl  of  twenty  to  set  her 
hand  to.  I  'm  plain  to  say  it  is  n't  the  sort  I  'd  pick 
for  you,  either.  But  it  does  seem  hard  to  part  the 
poor  woman  from  her  children  when  she  has  n't  long 
to  live  anyhow.  I  'd  hate  to  shut  my  door  against 
her,  now  you  've  set  your  heart  on  having  her  come. 
We  Ve  got  plenty  of  everything — room  and  all.  I  'm 
willing,  Hilda ;  so  we  'd  best  go  upstairs  and  pick  a 
room  and  get  it  ready  to-night,  so  you  can  go  and 
fetch  them  over  early  in  the  morning." 

"I  'm  much  obliged,  mother.-  I  was  afraid  you 
would  n't  give  up  to  it,  but  I  knew  you  had  a  mighty 
good  heart.  You  '11  have  to  look  past  the  outside 
of  the  Ritchies,  and  count  the  good  that 's  out  of 
sight." 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  '11  try,  but — if  Sammy  was  n't 
so  powerfully  bench-legged  and  freckled — " 

"But  think  of  his  brave,  loving  heart,  mother. 
He  is  doing  his  very  best  to  get  along  over  a  hard 
road.  I  'd  like  him  if  he  looked  a  lot  worse  than 
he  does." 

"Well,  you  always  did  beat  all  to  look  at  the  in- 


2o  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

side  of  things,  Hilda ;  but  it  does  seem  like  the  Lord 
made  a  sort  of  scapegoat  of  Sammy  the  way  He  put 
the  poor  little  fellow  together." 

Thanks  to  the  timely  care  and  kindness  of  the 
Lanes,  Mrs.  Ritchie  lived  several  months  in  comfort, 
and  died  in  peace  of  mind.  Sammy  and  his  sister 
Susy  thrived  in  their  new  home,  and  improved  in 
external  appearances.  They  were  neither  brilliant 
nor  aspiring,  but'  made  good  use  of  their  oppor- 
tunities and  grew  up  into  wholesome,  contented,  and 
creditable  members  of  the  community. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  decade  following 
Hilda  Lane's  first  adoption  several  changes  took 
place  in  the  old  family  homestead.  Mrs.  Lane  was 
laid  to  rest  on  Crown  Hill ;  Samuel  Ritchie,  having 
reached  manhood,  took  unto  himself  a  wife,  and  as- 
sumed the  entire  management  of  the  farm.  Susy 
married  a  thrifty  young  farmer  and  removed  to  a 
cozy  home  of  her  own.  Miss  Lane  built  a  cottage 
on  the  northwest  corner  of  her  land,  opposite  the 
Payson  residence,  and  established  herself  therein. 
In  the  meantime  she  had  made  another  adoption ; 
and  so,  with  her  time  and  attention  occupied  in  pro- 
moting the  welfare  and  happiness  of  others,  she  en- 
tered upon  her  fortieth  year,  healthy,  active,  cheer- 
ful, and  greatly  respected  by  all  that  knew  her. 


II. 

AT  PAYSON  BEND. 

THF,  sedate  old  town  of  Payson  Bend  is  located 
on  the  ancient  State  road  leading  from  St.  Louis  to 
points  east  and  north.  It  is  situated  in  the  midst  of 
a  section  of  Illinois  once  noted  for  its  timber-shel- 
tered streams,  rich  rolling  grain-fields,  upland 
prairies,  and  the  general  thrift  and  worth  of  its  in- 
habitants, most  of  whom  were  either  the  original 
owners  of  lands  purchased  directly  from  the  Govern- 
ment, or  the  descendants  of  such  proprietors. 

On  the  hillside  at  the  western  limit  of  Payson 
Bend,  Crown  Hill  Cemetery  borders  the  left  side  of 
the  road,  and  a  broom  factory  thrives  on  the  slope 
at  the  right.  With  these  evidences  of  life  and  death, 
industry  and  peace,  as  an  approach,  the  once  famous 
highway,  after  crossing  the  wooden  bridge,  climbs 
the  long  hill  and  proceeds  through  a  parade  of  resi- 
dences, rival  Churches,  school  buildings,  business 
establishments  of  all  kinds,  more  residences,  and 
finally  cuts  through  the  narrow  street  that  marks  the 
town  limits  and  follows  the  section  line  between  the 
Payson  and  Lane  farms  eastward. 

The  Payson  corner-stone,  a  huge,  out-cropping 
rock  firmly  imbedded  in  the  earth  and  securely  em- 
braced by  the  gnarled  surface  roots  of  a  mighty  oak, 
was  a  noted  landmark  long  before  Payson  Bend  be- 

21 


22  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

came  a  town  site.  The  rock  had  been  made  use  of 
by  an  early  surveyor,  although  its  southwest  ex- 
tremity scarcely  reached  the  angle  of  the  section  it 
was  supposed  to  indicate.  David  Payson,  the  first 
owner  of  the  quarter  section  marked  by  it,  was 
pleased  that  its  bulk  lay  well  within  his  claim,  not 
only  because — in  conjunction  with  the  giant  oak — 
it  gave  a  certain  distinction  to  his  property,  but  be- 
cause of  a  remarkable,  never-failing  spring  of  water 
which  bubbled  up  through  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and, 
falling  into  a  natural  stone  basin,  furnished  cool  re- 
freshment for  men  and  beasts  as  they  journeyed 
along  the  way.  The  roadbed  swerved  sharply 
around  the  obstacle  at  that  point  in  the  highway,  but 
no  one  was  ever  known  to  suggest  the  removal  of 
the  old  landmark.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  source 
of  pride  in  the  locality,  and  from  the  sharp  bend  in 
the  road  around  it  the  place  took  and  retained  the 
name  of  Payson  Bend. 

A  hundred  feet,  perhaps,  from  this  peculiar 
corner-stone  David  Payson  built  a  tavern  in  the  days 
of  stage  coaches,  peddler  wagons,  ox-carts,  gigs,  and 
horseback  travelers.  The  State  road  was  then  the 
popular  avenue  for  traffic  of  all  description,  and  the 
tavern  and  hostry  were  held  in  high  favor  by  its , 
patrons,  and  were  included  in  the  general  name  of 
the  locality  as  Payson's  Bend.  Therefore  it  is  not 
strange  that  when  a  town  site  was  laid  out  on  the 
adjoining  land  in  after  years,  that  it  was  also 
promptly  designated  as  the  town  of  Payson  Bend, 
in  spite  of  the  desires  of  its  founders  to  give  it  an- 
other name. 


AT  PAYSON  BEND.  23 

With  the  advent  of  railroads  in  adjacent  districts 
the  stress  of  travel  along  the  stage-coach  line  gradu- 
ally decreased,  and  the  Payson  hostry,  falling  into 
decay,  was  torn  down,  and  a  smaller  stable  built  in  its 
place ;  but  the  substantial  stone  tavern  house  was  re- 
modeled and  kept  in  good  repair  as  a  farm  residence 
by  the  two  generations  of  Paysons  that  had  occupied 
it  prior  to  this  point  of  our  story.  And  at  this  time 
Payson  Bend,  though  seven  miles  from  a  railroad, 
received  its  mail  daily,  and  continued  to  prosper  in 
spite  of  ambitious  rival  towns  more  advantageously 
situated,  so  far  as  railroad  facilities  were  concerned. 

The  Payson  farm  had  now  descended  to  Jerry 
Payson  and  his  widowed  sister,  Peggy  Strong ;  and 
the  Lane  farm  to  Hilda,  the  last  of  the  Lanes.  The 
residences  of  the  two  families  faced  each  other  on 
Stage  Street — or  rather  on  the  highway  which  was 
a  continuation  of  Stage  Street — and  the  cross  street 
that  separated  the  two  farms  from  the  town  divided 
Miss  Lane's  cottage  from  Judge  Horine's  handsome 
mansion,  and  the  Payson's  from  the  cozy  home  of 
Miss  Betty  Bigelow.  The  representatives  of  four 
well-established  families  were  thus  located  on  the 
four  corners  around  the  famous  Payson  landmark. 

Twenty  years  had  passed  since  Jerry  Payson's 
return  from  the  Civil  War  a  physical  wreck,  but  his 
happy  spirit  had  not  forsaken  him;  and  although 
confined  to  a  roller  chair  in  which  he  was  wheeled 
about,  his  sunny  disposition  made  him  a  favorite  at 
home  and  abroad. 

Andy  Peters,  having  come  back  from  the  South 
soon  after  Jerry's  return,  had  sought  and  obtained 


24  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

a  position  as  caretaker  of  the  crippled  soldier,  since 
it  had  seemed  expedient  to  employ  him  notwithstand- 
ing his  recent  wearing  of  the  Gray.  He  had  proven 
a  faithful  attendant,  and  the  two  men  were  warmly 
attached  to  each  other  in  spite  of  vastly  different 
characters  and  opinions. 

Being  almost  helpless,  and  for  the  most  part  con- 
fined to  his  chair  during  his  waking  hours,  Jerry 
Payson  was  compelled  to  expend  his  abundant  spirits 
in  such  ways  as  he  could.  Having  the  hampering 
evidence  of  his  injuries  always  with  him,  it  is  not 
strange  that  the  cause  of  them  was  never  long  absent 
from  his  mind.  But  passing  years  had  not  embit- 
tered him  nor  lessened  his  commendation  of  the 
course  that  resulted  in  such  stupendous  sacrifice  of 
life  and  limb,  and  dotted  our  fair  land  with  graves. 
His  patriotism  and  loyalty  to  the  Union,  and  his 
enthusiastic  homage  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  seemed 
never  to  grow  less  fervent,  for  to  him  the  stern 
necessities  of  the  sixties — the  deadly  conflicts  and 
dearly  bought  victories — were  thrilling  and  glorious 
memories,  beside  which  his  personal  misfortunes 
counted  for  little. 

He  continued  to  wear  the  Blue  at  all  times  and 
seasons,  and  to  the  right  side  of  his  chair,  as  if  to 
justify  and  glorify  his  physical  losses,  always  was 
fastened  a  strong  staff  bearing  the  flag  of  his  well- 
beloved  country.  To  see  Jerry  Payson  was  to  be- 
hold the  Stars  and  Stripes  also,  for  whether  at  home 
or  abroad  the  emblem  of  Freedom  accompanied  him 
with  his  roller  chair. 


III. 

A  REJECTED  GUEST. 

IT  was  a  cold  November  night.  The  high,  full 
moon  poured  its  white  splendor  down  upon  the 
slumbering  town,  and  mantled  it  with  a  silvery  sheen 
of  purity  and  peacefulness.  The  church  clock  struck 
two  vibrant  strokes.  A  weary  negress  began  the 
ascent  of  the  long  hill,  on  the  west  edge  of  Payson 
Bend,  with  slow  and  faltering  footsteps,  keeping 
well  to  the  middle  of  the  road  and  drawing  a  high- 
wheeled  hand-cart,  in  which  was  huddled  an  emaci- 
ated white  woman.  Suddenly  the  toiler  paused,  peer- 
ing toward  the  left  side  of  the  road  with  frightened 
eyes. 

"Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Mis'  Radcliffe,  is  dat  a 
grabeya'd  jam  agin  de  town,  or  jes'  de  hant  ob 
grabestones?  I'se  mos'  scairt  to  def!  Yo'  shuah 
dis  am  de  right  town,  honey  ?" 

"Yes.  Do  n't  be  alarmed,  Rhody ;  that  is  Crown 
Hill  Cemetery.  We  are  nearly  home  now.  Uncle 
Jerry  and  mamma  live  at  the  other  end  of  this  street. 
Keep  straight  ahead — but  wait,  let  me  walk  up  the 
rest  of  the  hill;  you  aren't  strong  enough  for  this 
hard  pull." 

"Yo'  bunch  yo'se'f  up  dar  an'  keep  wa'm,  honey. 
I'se  jes'  es  strong  es  dat  fat  mule  ob  niggah  Bill's; 

25 


26  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

yo'  min'  dat  sassy  mule  ?  Yo'  s'pect  Fse  gwinter  hab 
yo'  git  up  dis  hill  on  yo'  feet  ?  Nebah !" 

The  resolute  creature  plodded  slowly  onwards, 
her  features  contorted  with  pain  and  weariness.  Up 
the  steep  hill,  through  the  quiet  town,  past  the  big 
corner-stone  where  the  shadow  of  the  giant  oak  fell 
heavily  upon  'her,  and  where  crisp  brown  leaves 
crackled  softly  beneath  her  lagging  feet  the  pilgrim 
journeyed,  pausing  at  last  at  the  gate  of  the  old 
Payson  place. 

"Yo'  shuah  dis  am  de  place,  Mis'  Radcliffe?" 
asked  the  negress,  peering  through  the  flickering 
shadows  of  the  great  ash  trees  that  lined  the  path 
and  partly  screened  the  house.  "Dat 's  pow'ful  fine 
up  dar?" 

"Yes,  it 's  my  old  home.  It 's  the  moonlight  that 
makes  it  look  so  fine.  We  've  got  here  at  last, 
Rhody,  and  O,  I  'm  so  glad!" 

The  woman  began  to  sob  piteously.  The  relief 
of  knowing  that  her  tiresome  journey  was  ended, 
was  quickly  followed  by  the  dread  of  having  soon  to 
recite  her  woes  to  her  mother.  She  was  keenly  alive 
to  the  sorrows  that  had  driven  her  back  to  the  home 
of  her  childhood  a  pitiable  wreck.  She  had  marri'ed 
a  handsome  young  Southerner  against  her  mother's 
wishes  in  'her  teens  and  gone  South  with  him,  little 
dreaming  of  the  fate  that  was  soon  to  blight  her 
happiness. 

"Don5  grieb  so,  honey.  I'se  gwinter  wheel  yo' 
up  to  de  big  front  do'  an'  leab  yo'  dar.  Den  I  'se 
gwine  roun'  to  de  back  do'  an'  wake  yo'  ma,  an'  tell 


TA  REJECTED  GUEST.  27 

huh  'bout  t'ings.  Den  I'se  gwine  tote  yo'  in  de 
house  de  nex'  t'ing,  I  s'pect." 

"O,  I  wish  you  'd  tell  them  not  to  ask  me  any 
questions  till  I  get  rested,  Rhody.  Tell  them  I  'm 
so  tired, — tired  and  broken-hearted!"  wailed  the 
woman,  weakly. 

"Dar,  dar,  do  n'  yo'  grieb  no  mo',  Mis'  Radcliffe. 
I'se  gwinter  fix  dat  all  wid  yo'  folks.  Dar,  don' 
grieb  no  mo',  kase  yo'  gwinter  see  yo'  ma  an'  yo' 
Unc'  Jerry,  an'  I  s'pect  dey  gwinter  gib  us  some  hot 
tea  an'  bread  an'  meat." 

After  these  attempts  to  comfort  her  charge, 
Rhody  followed  the  path  around  the  house  and 
knocked  loudly  on  the  back  door.  A  man  came  m 
response,  bearing  a  lamp  in  his  hands.  He  started 
when  he  saw  the  negress,  and,  stepping  out  on  the 
latticed  porch,  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and 
asked  gruffly: 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"I'se  Rhody  Despa'd,  massa.  I  s'pect  yo'  is  Mis' 
Radcliffe's  Unc'  Jerry,  ain'  yo'  ?"  replied  the  woman, 
in  soft,  drawling  tones. 

"No  matter  who  I  be.    What  do  you  want  ?" 

"I'se  done  fotch  Mis'  Radcliffe  up  f'om  de  Souf. 
I'se  done  tote  huh  ober  f'om  de  HT  town  dat  de  ca's 
fotch  us  to  in  a  ca't.  Massa  Jason  's  daid,  an'  po' 
Mis'  Radcliffe  done  hab  berry  ha'd  times.  I'se  done 
tol'  Massa  Jason,  jes'  fo'  he  fotch  de  las'  bref,  dat 
I'se  shuah  gwinter  tote  Mis'  Radcliffe  up  Norf  to 
huh  folks.  We  done  made  out  to  git  money  toged- 


28    N  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

dah  to  come  up  de  ribbah  on  de  steamboat  to  Sain' 
Louey.  Den  we  come  on  de  ca's  to  de  HT  town  obah 
dar,  seben  miles  f'om  heah.  De  folks  obah  dar  say 
dey  can't  trus'  Mis'  Radcliffe  fo'  de  hiah  ob  a  cab, 
kase  we  ain'  got  no  mo'  money.  Den  I  jes'  make 
off  wid  a  ca't  I  foun'  back  ob  de  big  stoah-house, 
kase  I'se  boun'  to  git  Mis'  Radcliffe  obah  to  huh 
folks.  S'pect  yo  '11  send  dat  ca't  back  to  de  HT  town 
kase  I  ain'  no  low  down  niggah  dat  steals,  an'  I 
didn't  ax  fo'  de  loan  ob  it." 

"Where  is  Lina,  if  your  pack  of  yarns  is  true  ?" 

"At  de  big  do',  laik  white  ladies  am  boun'  to 
come  to  dey  folks.  I  jes'  come  to  dis  do',  kase  I 
mus'  tell  yo'  all  dat  de  po'  chile  am  sick  an'  mos'  in 
de  grabe  wid  trouble,  an'  she  mus'  hab  res'  befo'  yo' 
all  ax  huh  'bout  t'ings.  Please  call  huh  ma,  massa, 
an'  les'  git  de  po'  chile  in  de  house." 

"Mebby  you  're  telling  what 's  so,  and  mebby  you 
are  n't.  I  '11  go  through  the  house  and  see  if  Lina  is 
out  there  in  front ;  but  you  clear  out.  Payson  Bend 
do  n't  harbor  niggers." 

"Yes,  massa,  but  I  ain'  no  low  down  niggah. 
I'se  come  Norf  to  tote  Mis'  Radcliffe  home.  I'se 
done  wo'  out  an'  mos'  sta'ved.  Let  me  tote  Mis' 
Radcliffe  in  de  house,  an'  res'  till  de  mo'ning." 

"I  tell  you  to  clear  out.  Nary  a  roof  in  town 
dares  to  cover  a  nigger.  It 's  against  the  laws  of  the 
town.  If  the  authorities  get  sight  of  your  black  face 
there  '11  be  a  fire  at  your  heels  quicker  'n  blazes ! 
You  'd  best  move  on  in  a  hurry." 

"In  de  mon'ing,  massa.    I  'm  fa'  f'om  home,  an' 


A  REJECTED  GUEST.  29 

sick.  I  ain'  got  no  mo'  money,  an'  I  'se  done  wo' 
out.  Let  me  res'  till  de  mon'ing." 

"But  you  can't  come  into  this  house,  I  tell  you !" 
replied  the  man,  angrily. 

"I  '11  go  to  de  ba'n,  massa.  De  hay  is  good 
'nough  fo'  me." 

"Nor.  the  barn !  I  won't  have  the  hay  spoilt  for 
the  critters.  There  's  a  family  of  niggers  living  on 
the  creek  four  miles  east  of  here.  Take  the  road  and 
you  can't  miss  them.  They  live  in  a  log  shanty  in 
a  little  clearing  in  the  edge  of  the  timber  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  big  road.  Now  git 
along.  I  '11  look  after  Lina  if  she  's  there." 

"Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  massa !"  began  the  desper- 
ate creature,  piteously ;  but  Andy  Peters  turned  into 
the  house  and  locked  the  door.  When  he  emerged 
from  the  front  entrance  to  verify  the  woman's  story 
she  was  already  there,  bending  over  a  limp  heap  in 
the  high-wheeled  cart. 

When  the  man  held  the  lamp  close  to  the  pallid 
face  of  the  unconscious  occupant  of  the  cart,  he 
found  it  difficult  at  first  to  recognize  in  it  the  once 
bright  and  winsome  daughter  of  Peggy  Strong.  But 
his  eyes  were  still  pitiless  when  the  negress  raised 
her  wretched  face  and  pleaded : 

"Let  me  tote  huh  in  de  house  befo'  I  go,  massa. 
Let  me  tell  huh  ma  what 's  boun'  to  come  to  de  po' 
chile  in  jes'  a  HT  while." 

"There 's  the  path  to  the  gate.  I  won't  stir  a 
finger  for  Lina  till  you  get  your  black  carcass  out 
of  sight!" 


30  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

With  a  moan  the  negress  laid  her  trembling 
hands  caressingly  on  the  quiet  form  of  the  woman 
she  had  served  so  well;  but  only  for  a  moment's 
lingering;  then  she  went  down  the  path  laced  with 
the  flickering  shadows  of  the  ash  trees,  and  out  at 
the  gate  of  the  old  Payson  place  forever.  Attracted 
by  the  sound  of  rippling  water,  she  sought  the  spring 
at  the  corner-stone  and  drank  from  the  metal  cup 
chained  to  the  wayside  fountain.  It  was  coated 
thinly  with  ice  and  burnt  her  lips;  but  she  drank 
thirstily  again  and  again.  Then,  sighing  deeply,  she 
looked  about  her. 

Westward  she  noted  the  bare  trees  that  lined  the 
long  street  of  the  sleeping  town,  through  which  she 
had  so  lately  trudged.  Eastward  the  moonlit  high- 
way stretched  into  the  distance  like  a  narrowing, 
gray- white  ribbon  between  silver-mantled  hedges. 
Northward  she  saw  the  gleam  of  lights  beginning  to 
flash  from  the  windows  of  the  Payson  house.  South- 
ward Hilda  Lane's  cottage  nestled  in  a  cluster  of 
fruit-trees,  and  along  the  street  front  a  row  of  pop- 
lars stood  straight  and  tall  and  sheened  with  light, 
pleasant  sentinels  guarding  the  gate  that  stood  in- 
vitingly open. 

"Take  my  han's,  Lawd,  an'  lead  me  de  way  dat  's 
bes'  fo'  me  to  go,  kase  Fse  sick  an'  fa'  f'om  home !" 
cried  the  suffering  negress,  turning  her  pain-stricken 
face  to  the  calm  heavens  and  reaching  forth  her 
hands  in  an  agony  of  desolation.  For  awhile  she 
stood  praying,  and  then,  glancing  about,  her  eyes 
fell  upon  the  open  gate. 


A  REJECTED  GUEST.  31 

With  uncertain  steps  she  crossed  the  bend  in  the 
road,  staggered  through  Hilda  Lane's  gateway  and 
past  the  cottage.  The  great,  white  moon  looked 
down  serenely  and  watched  the  shadow  that  flitted 
along  under  the  apple-trees  toward  the  stable  at  the 
rear  of  the  cottage,  and  gave  no  sign.  But  the  thick 
carpet  of  autumn  leaves  thrilled  at  the  touch  of  the 
weary  pilgrim's  feet,  and  rustled  in  melancholy  sym- 
pathy and  farewell. 

When  the  church  clock  struck  three  solemn 
strokes,  Andy  Peters  hastily  approached  the  Lane 
cottage  and  summoned  its  mistress  to  the  assistance 
of  Peggy  Strong  in  reviving  her  daughter  from  a 
deep  swoon. 

Hilda  Lane  was  prompt  to  respond,  and  efficient 
in  her  help ;  but  when  the  patient  was  restored  to 
consciousness,  and  later  soothed  to  sleep  after  vain 
requests  for  Rhody,  her  natural  curiosity  demanded 
satisfaction.  Drawing  Mrs.  Strong  into  the  hall 
she  whispered : 

"Where  did  Lina  drop  from,  Peggy?  Why,  I 
nearly  fell  out  of  the  window,  I  was  that  bedazzled, 
when  I  leaned  out  to  see  who  was  pounding  on  my 
front  door,  and  Andy  screeched  up  that  Lina  was 
home  in  a  dead  faint,  and  you  wanted  me  as  quick 
as  I  could  trot  over." 

"La  me,  Hilda,  I  don't  know  the  proper  truth 
myself.  But  now  she  's  sleeping  we  might  go  and 
ask  Andy  about  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Strong,  turning 
back  into  the  chamber  for  a  last  anxious  survey  of 
the  worn  face  on  the  pillows. 


32  HiivDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

The  two  women  went  downstairs  to  the  sitting- 
room,  where  a  fire  snapped  and  blazed  cheerily  in  the 
open  fireplace.  Andy  Peters  sat  in  a  dejected  atti- 
tude at  one  end  of  the  hearth,  and  Jerry  Payson  at 
the  other  awaiting  news  of  the  sick  woman.  Mrs. 
Strong  reported  at  once : 

"Lina  came  to  her  senses  and  drank  a  cup  of  hot 
milk,  Jerry ;  but  she  's  gone  to  sleep  now,  just  too 
tuckered  out  to  live  nearly.  Such  a  job  as  we  had  to 
get  her  warm  in  spite  of  blankets  and  hot  soapstones 
and  the  like.  I  do  n't  know  what  I  should  've  done 
without  Hilda.  I  want  Andy  to  get  the  doctor  at 
daylight.  I  'm  afraid  my  poor  girl  is  in  a  bad  way. 
I  do  n't  see  how  she  made  out  to  get  here  alive.  But 
how  did  she  get  here,  Andy?  Hilda  and  me  want 
to  know.  I  was  that  upset  when  you  woke  me  up 
right  in  the  middle  of  dreaming  I  had  the  lockjaw, 
that—" 

"O  glory,  Peggy,  your  jaws  could  n't  be  locked !" 
interrupted  Jerry  Payson,  grimly. 

"I  did  n't  more  than  half  sense  what  you  was 
saying  except  that  Lina  had  come  home.  Did  you 
say  a  stranger  brought  her  over  from  Talbot  Sta- 
tion?" 

"I  reckon  I  did,"  mumbled  Andy. 

"Was  it  a  woman  ?  Lina  's  been  asking  for  some 
one  by  the  name  of  Rhody.  She  says  she  'd  be  dead 
if  Rhody  had  n't  taken  care  of  her.  I  did  n't  dare 
tell  her  there  was  n't  any  such  a  body  here.  I  told 
her  to  go  to  sleep  and  rest  herself,  and  let  Rhody 


A  REJECTED  GUEST.  33 

rest  till  morning,  too.  Now,  who  is  Rhody,  and 
what 's  become  of  her,  Andy  ?" 

With  a  dogged  look  on  his  face  Andy  picked  up 
the  brass-knobbed  tongs,  deliberately  lifted  a  burn- 
ing fagot  from  the  rim  of  the  fire,  and  casting  it  on 
the  backlog  spat  on  the  red  coals,  hung  up  the  tongs, 
crossed  his  legs,  and  settled  down  in  his  chair  in  a 
defensive  attitude. 

"I  reckon  I  'm  in  for  a  pitch  battle — three  to 
one,"  he  began,  with  a  swift  glance  at  the  attentive 
man  across  the  hearth  from  him.  "  'T  aint  likely 
ary  one  of  you  '11  give  up  nagging  at  me  till  you  Ve 
run  out  of  shot,  and  the  Lord  knows  when  that  '11 
come  to  pass.  I  'd  as  well  give  you  the  field  and  be 
done  with  it.  It  was  a  nigger,  drat  her,  that  brought 
Lina  from  Talbot  Station  in  a  hand  cart  she  'd  stole 
from  the  station.  You  can  pack  it  down  in  your 
head  that  a  nigger  '11  steal  something  at  every  halt, 
if  it 's  nothing  but  a  tick  off  a  dog's  back.  She  told 
a  lot  of  stuff  about  Jason  Radcliffe's  dying,  and  her 
promising  him  to  bring  Lina  up  here.  Said  they 
came  up  river  on  a  steamer,  and  out  to  Talbot  on  the 
cars.  Got  off  there  without  any  money  and  no  way 
to  get  over  here  but  to  foot  it,  so  she  stole  a  cart — 
stole  it,  mind  you — and  hauled  Lina  over." 

"But  where  is  she?"  asked  Mrs.  Strong,  impa- 
tiently. 

"Lordy,  Peggy,  how  do  I  know?  I  took  Lina 
off  her  hands,  and  told  her  to  cut  dirt  for  that  nigger 
shanty  on  the  creek.  Now,  you  've  got  all  I  know 
3 


34  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

about  the  concern.  Don't  be  backward — blaze 
away !  You  '11  find  my  black  clothes  in  my  chest, 
and  there  's  room  for  me  on  Crown  Hill  when  you  've 
got  your  satisfaction.  The  world  's  been  against  me 
from  the  time  I  fetched  my  first  breath.  I  don't 
know  as  I  care  how  soon  I  get  out  of  it." 

"And  so/'  began  Mrs.  Strong  immediately,  "y°u 
took  it  upon  yourself  to  turn  that  poor  thing  away 
from  our  door  without  giving  Jerry  or  me  a  chance 
to  say  a  word  of  thanks  for  all  she  'd  done  for  Lina. 
Like  as  not  she  was  cold  and  hungry  and  about  to 
drop  after  that  seven-mile  jaunt  from  Talbot.  I  wish 
you  had  n't  done  a  thing  like  that,  Andy ;  it 's  un- 
feeling." 

"Unfeeling,  sakes  alive!"  put  in  Miss  Lane,  in- 
dignantly. "That 's  a  mighty  sugary  name  for  such 
meanness.  I  'd  call  it  wicked,  and  worse  than 
wicked,  to  turn  a  lone  woman — a  Christian  at  that — 
away  from  fire  and  shelter  in  the  dead  of  night !" 

"She  was  n't  a  Christian !"  growled  Andy.  "She 
was  nothing  but  a  pesky  nigger,  I  tell  you !" 

"You  must  be  a  heathen,  Andy,"  declared  Miss 
Lane,  scornfully.  "Was  n't  it  a  Christian  thing  for 
her  to  do  for  Lina  the  way  she  did?  Well  sir,  I 
take  it  a  body  's  a  Christian  when  they  're  working 
leg  and  arm  and  backbone  to  follow  the  best  light 
they  've  got,  and  do  the  duty  that 's  close  to  them. 
Rhody  didn't  shy  off  from  her  duty  because  of  a 
hard  job,  no  matter  what  color  she  is,  and  she  de- 
served better  treatment  than  she  got  from  you.  I 
take  it  the  recording  angel  is  n't  a  fair  book-keeper 


A  REJECTED  GUEST.  35 

if  he  has  n't  put  a  black  mark  against  the  name  of 
Andy  Peters,  white  man,  and  a  white  mark  against 
the  name  of  Rhody,  black  woman,  for  what 's  been 
going  on  to-night." 

"Lordy,  if  the  recording  angel  has  n't  any  better 
judgment  than  to  mix  up  a  lot  of  pesky  niggers  in 
his  count  of  things,  I  don't  care  what  sort  of  jim- 
cracks  he  puts  against  my  name." 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy  Peters !  It  is  n't  a  mite  of 
use  for  you  to  sit  there  like  a  billygoat  butting  at  a 
rock  pile.  You  know  well  enough  you  do  n't  like 
brimstone.  Your  mother  had  to  hold  your  nose  and 
hands  to  get  you  to  swallow  sulphur  and  molasses 
when  you  was  little ;  but  there  won't  be  any  sweeten- 
ing in  the  dose  you  're  fixing  to  get  by  'n  by.  What 
time  did  that  woman  leave  here  ?"  Miss  Lane  threw 
her  shawl  over  her  shoulders  as  she  asked  the  ques- 
tion, and  stood  waiting  with  a  determined  air. 

"If  you  mean  that  black  woman — the  church 
clock  struck  three  when  I  called  you  to  come  over. 
She  had  n't  been  gone  fifteen  minutes,  I  reckon,"  re- 
sponded the  man,  sullenly. 

"Well,  I  'm  going  home  to  hitch  up  Hero  and  go 
on  the  hunt  of  her.  I  '11  take  her  to  my  house  and 
treat  her  according  to  the  way  she  treated  Lina." 

"Wait,  Hilda!"  commanded  Jerry  Payson, 
sternly,  as  the  woman  turned  to  go.  "Andy,  you  go 
and  hitch  old  Gray  to  the  buggy  for  Hilda.  It  '11 
be  handier  for  her  to  start  from  here.  Drive  up  to 
the  block  in  front." 

Andy  rose  from  his  chair  and  stood  for  a  moment 


36  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

staring  into  the  fire.  His  reflections  were  not  pleas- 
ant evidently,  for  he  suddenly  snatched  his  clay  pipe 
from  the  mantle,  dashed  it  to  pieces  on  the  stone 
hearth,  and  strode  from  the  room  with  a  muttered 
oath.  Miss  Lane  smiled  grimly,  but  Mrs.  Strong, 
whose  disposition  was  extremely  placid  usually,  was 
somewhat  dismayed. 

"I  do  wish  Andy  was  n't  so  fitified  when  he  gets 
mad,"  she  fretted.  "Do  you  suppose  he  has  any 
notion  of  hitching  up  old  Gray,  Jerry?" 

"Don't  you  go  to  borrowing  trouble,  Peggy. 
He  '11  have  Gray  hooked  up  in  a  flash.  Andy 's 
mightily  set  against  the  darkies,  but  he  is  n't  mean- 
hearted  about  other  things  to  speak  of." 

"Seems  like  you  might  have  spoken  up  and  let 
Andy  know  how  you  felt  about  the  way  he  's  acted, 
Jerry.  You  sat  there  as  though  you  were  n't  touched 
a  bit,  and  I  know  you  do  n't  uphold  his  doings," 
said  Mrs.  Strong,  aggrievedly. 

"Glory,  Peggy,  I  had  to  sit  here.  I  'm  tolerable 
set  in  my  chair,  you  know.  Andy  had  as  much  as 
he  could  well  live  under,  I  guess,  and  what  I  've  got 
to  say  '11  keep  till  another  time." 

"Well,  one  word  of  yours  goes  further  with  him 
than  the  heft  of  all  Hilda  or  me  could  say  in  a  week ; 
and  I  hope  you  '11  make  your  feelings  plain  when  you 
do  open  your  mouth." 

"He  knows  my  feelings  well  enough,  Peggy,  and 
words  do  n't  always  hit  the  spot  we  're  driving  at. 
You  women  folks  have  said  a  plenty  for  one  time ; 
he  might  forget  where  he  's  hit  if  you  keep  on  before 


A  REJECTED  GUEST.  37 

his  hurts  get  good  and  sore.  But  say,  Hilda,  if  you 
find  that  nigger  woman  you  fetch  her  back  here. 
I  'm  boss  of  this  house  yet  awhile.  She  '11  be  my 
company  as  long  as  she  wants  to  stay  under  my  roof. 
Do  you  hear,  Hilda  ?" 

"I  'm  not  deaf,  Jerry.  Of  course  I  '11  bring  her 
here  if  you  say  so,  because  of  the  justice  of  it.  But 
she  'd  be  welcome  at  my  house — you  know  that." 

"Glory,  yes.  You  'd  make  a  stray  yellow  dog 
welcome,  Hilda." 

"I  'd  let  him  get  warm  and  give  him  a  good 
square  meal,  anyhow.  But  I  must  be  getting  out 
to  the  block  so  Andy  won't  have  to  tie  up." 

"I  can't  bear  to  have  you  go  off  on  a  jaunt  like 
that  this  time  of  night,"  said  Mrs.  Strong,  anxiously. 

"O,  it 's  light  as  day  outside,  and  I  'm  not  a  bit 
afraid,  Peggy.  Do  n't  you  worry  about  me." 

"Maybe  you  'd  best  take  Andy  with  you,"  sug- 
gested Jerry,  slyly.  "But,  say  Hilda,  don't  you 
and  him  forget  what  you  're  going  after,  and  drive 
up  to  the  preacher's  instead." 

"You  shut  up,  Jerry !" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  Say,  Hilda,  hold  on  a  bit !  You'll 
have  to  fix  up  how  you  '11  sit  in  the  buggy  after  you 
get  Rhody  in.  The  seat 's  only  big  enough  for  two, 
and  Andy  won't  sit  on  her  lap  nor  let  her  sit  on 
his.  I  guess  you  '11 — " 

"Will  you  shut  up,  Jerry,"  interrupted  Miss 
Lane,  hurrying  from  the  room. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  He,  fae,  he!"  laughed  the  man 
merrily. 


38  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Andy  was  leading  the  horse  to  the  block  as  Hilda 
came  out  of  the  house.  "Shan't  I  go  with  you?" 
he  asked  humbly  enough  as  she  climbed  into  the 
buggy.  "You  '11  be  afraid  on  the  big  road  this  time 
of  the  night,  won't  you  ?" 

"Afraid  ?  Sakes  alive,  it  is  n't  likely  I  '11  run 
across  anything  worse  than  you,  Andy !"  replied  the 
woman  tartly,  as  she  slapped  the  Gray  with  the  lines 
and  drove  away. 

Miss  Lane's  keen  eyes  searched  both  sides  of 
the  road  as  she  drove  briskly  along;  but  although 
she  went  clear  to  the  log  hut  in  the  edge  of  the  tim- 
ber and  inquired  there  for  Rhody,  she  found  no 
trace  of  her.  It  was  sunrise  when  she  returned  to 
Jerry  Payson's  and  reported  her  failure.  Mrs. 
Strong  insisted  on  her  stopping  awhile  to  get  warm 
and  share  the  appetizing  breakfast  Ellen,  the  maid 
of  all  work,  was  hastening  on  her  account ;  but  she 
refused : 

"No,  no,  Peggy.  I  can't  stop.  Like  as  not 
Robbie  will  be  awake  and  get  frightened  when  he 
finds  I  'm  gone.  I  've  got  batter  set  for  buckwheat 
cakes,  and  sausage  balls  made  out  to  fry.  The 
water  '11  boil  for  coffee  while  I  'm  milking  and  feed- 
ing. I  never  can  eat  in  peace  till  the  critters  are  fed. 
So  Lina  's  sleeping  yet,  is  she  ?  Well,  I  'm  glad  of 
that.  But  I  do  hate  it  about  not  finding  Rhody.  I 
guess  I  '11  drive  over  to  Talbot  Station  after  break- 
fast, and  see  if  she  's  gone  back  there.  I  'd  like  to 
say  a  kind  word  to  her  and  give  her  money  enough 
to  take  her  back  home  if  she  wants  to  go." 


A  REJECTED  GUEST .  39 

"I  want  the  money  part  to  be  my  share,  Hilda. 
You  've  got  the  trouble  of  hunting  her  up  for  your 
part;  but  don't  put  yourself  out  too  much.  We 
can't  help  the  way  Andy  acted,  you  know.  I  reckon 
the  woman  will  get  along  well  enough,  anyhow. 
Niggers  can  stand  more  than  white  folks  can,  and 
never  get  sick  that  I  ever  heard  of." 

"Sakes  alive,  Peggy.  It 's  mighty  little  you  Ve 
ever  seen  of  them,  but  you  do  n't  suppose  they  live 
on  and  never  get  sick  enough  to  die,  do  you?" 

"No,  I  reckon  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Strong,  stu- 
pidly. "But  there  's  no  use  for  you  to  make  yourself 
sick  trying  to  find  one  that 's  spry  enough  10  get  out 
of  sight  in  such  a  hurry." 

"O,  I  'm  not  one  to  fret  overmuch,  Peggy.  I  '11 
do  what  I  can  and  then  give  up  peaceably.  But  I 
take  it  a  body's  good  will  does  n't  amount  to  much 
if  it  fizzles  out  before  it 's  half  tried  to  prove  itself. 
Well,  I  '11  be  going  now.  If  you  need  me  on  Lina's 
account,  let  me  know." 


IV. 
HILDA  LANE'S  DISCOVERY. 

WHEN  she  reached  her  cottage  Miss  Lane  un- 
covered a  bed  of  live  coals  in  the  sitting-room  fire- 
place, and  carried  a  shovelful  of  them  to  the  kitchen 
stove,  adding  a  generous  supply  of  dry  hickory 
chips.  While  the  quick  fire  went  roaring  up  the 
chimney  she  piled  some  fagots  in  the  fireplace,  and 
warmed  herself  thoroughly  before  the  leaping 
flames. 

Presently,  finding  Robbie — her  little  adopted 
boy — still  asleep,  she  pinned  her  breakfast  shawl 
around  her  shoulders,  tied  the  strings  of  a  black 
yarn  hood  beneath  her  plump  chin,  set  the  bubbling 
teakettle  farther  back  on  the  kitchen  stove,  took  a 
shining  milk  pail  from  its  hook  in  the  closet,  and 
went  out  of  doors,  closely  followed  by  a  big  gray  cat. 

"It 's  mighty  fresh  this  morning,  is  n't  it,  Frank- 
lin?" she  queried  with  a  shiver,  walking  briskly 
along  the  frosty  path  leading  to  the  stable  where 
Hero,  the  fat,  sleek  buggy  horse,  and  Spotty,  the 
fat,  sleek  cow,  were  warmly  housed. 

Franklin  responded  after  the  manner  of  intelli- 
gent cats,  arched  his  back,  and  after  a  few  kittenish 
maneuvers  among  the  currant-bushes  beside  the 
path,  ran  up  the  slant  trunk  of  an  apple-tree,  and, 

40 


HILDA  LANE'S  DISCOVERY.  41 

crawling  out  on  a  limb,  suddenly  dropped  down 
upon  Miss  Lane's  shoulders  as  she  stood  unfasten- 
ing the  stable  door. 

"Sakes  alive,  Franklin,  you  're  as  tricky  as  a 
monkey !  Now,  what  possessed  you  to  do  that  ?  Get 
down !  You  've  jerked  my  shawl  loose  and — yes, 
of  course,  the  pin  's  gone  to  Halifax !"  grumbled 
the  startled  woman,  searching  the  hem  of  her  dress 
waist  for  another  pin  and  again  fastening  her  shawl. 

There  were  loud  demonstrations  of  welcome 
from  Hero  and  Spotty  as  Miss  Lane  proceeded  to 
give  both  their  morning's  feed,  and  Franklin  frisked 
about,  mewing  persuasively  for  his  share  of  new 
milk. 

"I  Ve  spoilt  you,  Franklin,  so  I  suppose  I  '11 
have  to  keep  on  milking  your  bowlful  first,"  re- 
marked the  woman  finally,  seating  herself  on  a  milk- 
stool  beside  Spotty  and  suiting  her  action  to  her 
word. 

"Me-o-w,  me-o-w,"  replied  Franklin,  putting  one 
soft  paw  on  the  edge  of  the  brimming  bowl. 

"Sakes  alive!  Now,  what  was  that?"  questioned 
Miss  Lane,  pausing  in  her  task  and  listening  to  a 
peculiar  sound  that  seemed  to  waver  down  from 
the  hayloft.  Again  the  sound  issued  forth  like  the 
wailing  of  a  young  infant.  Giving  Franklin  his 
milk,  Miss  Lane  set  aside  the  milk  pail  and  rose  up, 
determined  to  investigate  the  mystery. 

"What  on  earth !  Where  did  you  drop  from  ? 
Why,  that 's  a  newborn  baby,  is  n't  it  ?"  were  the 
astonished  utterances  that  escaped  Miss  Lane's  lips 


42  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

as,  having  climbed  the  narrow  stairway,  she  stood 
staring  down  at  the  haggard  face  of  a  young  negress, 
who  looked  up  with  anguished  eyes  as  she  tried  to 
clasp  closer  to  her  bosom  a  tiny  wailing  infant 
swathed  in  a  soiled  petticoat. 

The  loft  was  a  clean,  roomy  place,  with  a  good 
supply  of  prime  timothy  hay  packed  to  the  roof  on 
one  side,  while  on  the  other  a  drift  of  fresh,  yellow 
wheat  straw  reached  to  the  sill  of  an  east  window, 
through  which  the  morning  sun  was  streaming. 
Just  where  the  glittering  shaft  lay  brightest  on  the 
golden  drift,  Rhody  Despard  had  buried  herself  in 
the  straw  for  warmth  and  shelter. 

"Do  n'  be  mad,  Missus,  kase  de  misery  come  on 
fo'  I  could  make  off  to  de  place  I  'lowed  to  go.  Fse 
Jim  Despa'd's  woman  fo'  de  law  an'  fo'  de  preachah. 
I  ain'  no  low  down  niggah,  'deed  I  ain'.  I'se  got 
de  right  to  hab  dis  HT  one.  I'se  come  in  de  da'k 
ob  de  night  to  tote  po'  Mis'  Radcliffe  home,  laik  I 
tol'  Massa  Jason  I  'd  shuah  do." 

"Sakes  alive !"  exclaimed  Miss  Lane,  with  quick 
understanding  as  she  dropped  to  her  knees  beside 
the  sufferer.  "So  you  are  the  kind  woman  that 
brought  Lina  home  last  night  ?  Andy  Peters  drove 
you  away  from  the  door  without  a  bite  to  eat,  or  a 
word  of  thanks!  Jerry  Payson  nor  Lina's  mother 
wouldn't  have  done  that  way  by  you.  I  reckon 
Andy  tried  to  frighten  you  some,  too.  Told  you 
about  the  rules  of  Payson  Bend,  and  all  that,  just 
because  God  put  a  black  skin  over  your  bones  in- 
stead of  a  white  one.  Well,  maybe  God 's  got  never- 


LANE'S  DISCOVERY.  43 

ending  patience  with  such  folks  as  Andy — I  suppose 
He  ought  to  have  as  long  as  He  made  them — but 
I  have  n't. 

"So  you  crawled  into  my  hayloft,  did  you  ?  Well, 
that  was  right  as  long  as  you  did  n't  know  that  a 
woman  with  a  heart  lived  in  the  cottage.  And 
you  've  laid  here  suffering  at  such  a  time  with  no 
one  near  to  hold  your  hands  and  help  you  along 
with  a  word  of  cheer  ?  Sakes  alive !  Well,  you  can 
rest  easy  now,  and  tell  me  where  your  worst  misery 
is.  I  'm  going  to  take  care  of  you  from  this  on." 

The  negress  gave  a  brief  account  of  her  con- 
dition, talking  with  increasing  difficulty,  and  swoon- 
ing at  last  from  sheer  exhaustion.  Miss  Lane  fell 
to  rubbing  her  cold  arms  and  hands  vigorously. 
The  infant  cried  again,  and  Franklin,  having  fin- 
ished his  breakfast  and  followed  his  mistress,  began 
to  me-o-w  in  his  most  melancholy  tones. 

"Do  shut  your  mouth,  Franklin !  Can't  you  see 
that  I  'm  in  a  worse  mess  than  a  hen  with  a  hatching 
of  goslings  on  her  hands  ?"  demanded  the  distressed 
Samaritan,  trying  to  soothe  the  babe  by  shaking  it 
gently  with  one  hand,  while  she  chafed  the  mother's 
limp  body  with  the  other. 

Presently  the  dusky  lids  quivered  and  fluttered 
upward  from  the  dull  black  eyes,  at  which  favorable 
sign  Miss  Lane  snatched  up  the  cat  and  was  hasten- 
ing to  the  house  for  needful  remedies  when  she  saw 
Dr.  Hilton  driving  along  the  street  and  hailed  him: 

"Come  in,  Doctor ;  I  've  got  a  patient  that  needs 
you  mighty  bad !" 


44  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Dr.  Hilton  tied  his  horse,  and  made  his  way 
to  the  kitchen  door,  where  he  had  seen  Hilda  dis- 
appear. He  found  her  pouring  some  boiling  water 
over  a  measure  of  tea.  She  filled  a  jug  with  hot 
water  also  before  glancing  up  and  saying : 

"Here,  Doctor,  if  you  '11  carry  this  jug  and  tea- 
pot, I  guess  I  can  make  out  to  take  the  blankets  and 
the  rest  of  these  things.  Come  on,  now,  if  you  're 
ready." 

"Perhaps  you  '11  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  where 
you  expect  me  to  go?"  said  the  physician,  picking 
up  the  jug  mechanically,  but  pausing  with  his  fin- 
gers on  the  handle  of  the  teapot,  bewildered  by  Miss 
Lane's  perparations  to  depart. 

"To  the  barn." 

"The  barn?  I  draw  the  line  at  beasts  in  my 
practice.  You  know  that  well  enough.  What  do 
you  mean  by  calling  me  in  to  see  your  horse  or  cow  ? 
There  's  Green,  the  veterinary — " 

"Green  fiddlesticks !  It  is  n't  a  beast  that  needs 
doctoring." 

"But  I  refuse  to  visit  a  patient  in  anybody's 
barn!" 

"O,  well  if  you  're  too  high  and  mighty  to  go  to 
my  barn  to  help  a  poor  human  that 's  in  a  bad  fix, 
why  go  on  your  way  in  peace,  if  you  can,  but  I  wish 
you  'd  have  the  kindness  to  stop  at  that  new  doctor's 
office  as  you  go  past  and  send  him  here.  He  looks 
pleasant,  and  I  'd  as  soon  give  my  money  to  him  as 
any  one  if  he 's  got  the  shell  of  a  heart  in  him." 

Miss  Lane  was  half  way  to  the  stable  by  this 


HILDA  LANE'S  DISCOVERY.   ,  45 

time,  and  Dr.  Hilton  reluctantly  followed,  perplexed 
and  angry.  Nothing  more  was  said  till  the 
pair  halted  beside  the  negress  in  the  loft.  Then, 
with  disgust  overspreading  his  countenance,  the 
physician  turned  to  his  patron  and  said : 

"I  understood  you  to  say  it  was  a  human  being 
you  wished  me  to  visit.  I  call  this  a  critter." 

Miss  Lane  slipped  the  jug  of  hot  water  down  at 
the  feet  of  the  sick  woman,  and  deftly  removing  the 
straw  from  about  her  quivering  body  wrapped  the 
warm  blankets  around  her.  Then  pouring  some  tea 
into  a  cup  she  said  gently : 

"Here,  Rhody,  drink  a  little  tea  to  warm  you  up, 
and  then  we  '11  try  to  make  you  more  comfortable." 
But  the  wretched  creature,  already  chilled  with 
death,  shook  her  head  weakly  and  whispered  halt- 
ingly : 

"De  Lawd  bress  yo',  Missus!  But  dis  po'  liT 
baby—" 

"Do  n't  you  fret,  Rhody.  I  '11  stand  by  you  and 
your  baby  as  long  as  either  of  you  need  a  friend,  if 
it 's  till  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet  for  me.  You 
leave  things  to  me  now,  and  drink  this  tea  to 
strengthen  you." 

Again  the  thick  lips  murmured  plaintively:  "De 
Lawd  bress  yo',  Missus!  I'se  gwinter  gib  dis  po' 
liT  brack  lam'  to  yo'  to  keep  fo'  de  Lawd's  sake. 
Tell  Mis'  Radcliffe — I'se  gwine  up  dar — wha'  de 
brack  folks  gits  white — an'  de  golden  chu'ch  bells — 
keep  ringing — all  de  time.  Tell  Mis'  Radcliffe  I'se 
ain'  scairt — kase  I  s'pect  Jim — an'  Massa  Jason  '11 — 


46  f  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

be  waiting  at  de  big  golden  gate — wid  de  singing 
book — an'  de  white  robe — dat  's  gwinter  be  fo'  me." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  '11  tell  her,  Rhody,"  said  Miss  Lane, 
swallowing  painfully,  and  blinking  back  threatening 
tears.  Then  she  rose  and  demanded  quietly  of  the 
Doctor,  who  stood  apparently  unmoved,  but  with  his 
professional  instincts  fully  alert : 

"Are  you  going  to  stand  there  like  a  stone  hitch- 
ing post  and  let  this  woman  die  without  lifting  a 
finger  to  save  her?" 

Without  replying  the  man  bent  over  and  laid  his 
fingers  on  the  wrist  of  the  negress.  She  was  breath- 
ing gaspingly,  and  exhibited  other  unfavorable 
symptoms. 

"You  '11  have  to  get  some  one  to  stay  here  with 
you,  Miss  Lane,"  said  the  physician,  when  at  last  he 
turned  from  his  review  of  the  patient.  "You  '11  need 
help;  but  I  don't  know  of  any  one  who  would  be 
apt  to  come  unless  it  is  Mrs.  Denny.  Of  course 
Mrs.  Strong  is  out  of  the  question.  I  have  just 
come  from  there — her  hands  are  full." 

"Yes,  I  know  Peggy  can't  come.  But  you  can 
help  me  get  this  poor  woman  into  the  house,  can't 
you?" 

"It  would  only  hasten  the  end,"  replied  the  man 
in  a  whisper,  "and,  besides,  there  is  no  need  for  you 
to  contaminate  your  house  with  this  affair ;  it 's  bad 
enough  to  have  her  here.  You  know  the  sentiment 
of  Payson  Bend." 

"Sakes  alive,  do  let  me  forget  the  sins  of  Payson 


HILDA  LANE'S  DISCOVERY.  47 

Bend  for  a  minute  if  I  can,  Doctor.  Will  you  stay 
here  while  I  get  Elviry  Denny?" 

"No,  I  prefer  to  get  Mrs.  Denny.  But  I  '11  leave 
some  powders  for  your  charge." 

After  the  powders  were  prepared,  Dr.  Hilton 
motioned  to  Miss  Lane  and  led  the  way  downstairs, 
where  he  said : 

"It 's  of  no  use  to  hope ;  the  creature  is  too  far 
gone.  I  doubt  if  she  lives  an  hour  longer.  I  only 
left  the  powders  to  satisfy  you  that  an  effort  was 
made  to  help  her." 

"Well,  I  'm  mighty  thankful  to  you,  Doctor,  till 
you  're  better  paid.  I  '11  go  back  up  there  now  and 
do  what  I  can,  but  please  tell  Elviry  Denny  to  hurry, 
and  maybe  we  can  save  the  baby." 

"You  '11  do  the  world  a  favor  to  let  it  die. 
There  's  too  many  niggers  now." 

Miss  Lane  tossed  her  head  impatiently,  and  hur- 
ried up  the  narrow  stairs  again,  but  the  negress  had 
fallen  into  a  state  of  coma,  from  which  she  did  not 
again  rally.  Soon  after  Mrs.  Denny  arrived  a 
tremor  of  the  dusky  body,  followed  by  a  feeble  gasp, 
marked  the  last  struggle  of  the  weary  pilgrim. 

But  Rhody  Despard  was  no  longer  an  outcast 
far  from  home.  She  had  crossed  the  line  of  shadows 
and  mysteries,  and  reached  the  fair  land  of  her 
dreams,  "where  brack  folks  git  white,  an'  de  golden 
chu'ch  bells  keep  ringing  all  de  time." 


V. 
A  NEW  ADOPTION. 

A  COUPLE  of  weeks  after  Rhody  Despard  was 
laid  to  rest  in  one  corner  of  the  Lane  burial  lot  on 
Crown  Hill — albeit  against  the  protest  of  the  town 
people — Miss  Lane  sat  sewing  beside  the  window 
of  her  cozy  sitting-room,  when  she  saw  Andy  Peters 
wheeling  Jerry  Payson  up  to  the  cottage  in  his  roller 
chair.  She  rose  at  once  and  opened  the  door  to  bid 
them  welcome. 

"Well,  well,  Jerry,  what 's  going  to  happen  ?" 
she  asked. 

"Ha,  ha !  I  told  Andy  you  'd  be  at  your  wits' 
end  when  you  got  sight  of  us.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  he,  he ! 
I  '11  own  up  on  the  spot — I  've  come  a  purpose  to  see 
your  pickaninny." 

"I  do  say.  Well,  come  right  in ;  I  'm  glad  some- 
thing brought  you  over.  Wheel  Jerry  up  to  the  fire, 
Andy,  and  take  that  armchair  yourself.  So  you  've 
come  to  see  my  baby  ?  I  've  been  going  over  names 
in  my  mind  nearly  all  afternoon,  but  I  can't  settle 
on  one  to  fit  this  little  thing.  Perhaps  you  can  think 
of  one,  Jerry." 

Miss  Lane  drew  forward  a  large  rocking-chair, 
in  which  several  feather  pillows  were  heaped  to 

48 


A  NEW  ADOPTION.  49 

make  a  soft,  warm  nest  for  the  infant  so  strangely 
thrust  into  her  care.  Carefully  turning  back  a  small 
patchwork  quilt  and  a  white  wool  blanket,  she  ex- 
posed a  tiny  dark  morsel  of  humanity.  Jerry  Pay- 
son  bent  toward  it  curiously,  exclaiming: 

"O  glory,  Hilda!  Peggy  said  it  was  a  mite  of 
a  thing,  but — why,  I  never  saw  its  like  for  miteness. 
It  looks  like  a  day-old  field  mouse.  Have  you  got 
the  heft  of  it  yet?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Denny  and  me  weighed  it  in  my 
butter  scales  this  morning.  What  do  you  suppose 
it  weighs  ?" 

''Well — I  do  n't  know — a  pound  maybe,  or  three 
at  a  big  stretch." 

"You  're  a  ways  off  yet.  What  do  you  judge, 
Andy?" 

"I  ain't  no  judge  of  young  monkeys !" 

"Who  is  talking  about  monkeys?  I'm  talking 
about  this  baby.  It  weighs  four  pounds  and  eight 
ounces.  It 's  growing  too,  and  will  be  big  a  plenty 
for  its  age  when  it  gets  plumped  out.  It 's  mostly 
bones  now." 

"So  you  're  counting  on  its  living,  and  on  adopt- 
ing it,  are  you,  Hilda?"  asked  Jerry  Payson,  shak- 
ing his  head  doubtfully  over  the  prospect. 

"Yes,  I  intend  to  raise  it  if  it  lives,  and  I  don't 
see  anything  to  hinder  it  if  it  keeps  on  getting 
peart." 

"Peart  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha !  he,  he !  A  great  show  for 
peartness !" 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry!  Why,  a  humming-bird 
4 


50  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

is  n't  much  of  a  show,  but  it 's  dazzling  for  peart- 
ness.  And  a  flea — why,  a  flea  is  next  to  nothing  to 
look  at,  but  it 's  the  gospel  law  for  peartness." 

"Ha,  ha!  It  does  seem  that  way.  But  why 
do  n't  you  try  a  little  soap  on  your  adoption,,  Hilda  ? 
It 's  mighty  off  color  for  a  Payson  Bend  youngster." 

"Do  shut  up,  Jerry.  The  poor  little  thing  might 
sort  of  sense  what  you  're  saying  and  feel  hurt.  It 's 
got  two  of  the  knowingest  black  eyes  I  ever  saw." 

"Two?  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Two  eyes?  Why,  it's  a 
sort  of  a  freak,  is  n't  it,  Hilda  ?" 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry !  You  've  got  one  of  your 
worst  spells  to-day,  haven't  you?  Suppose  you 
settle  down  now,  and  mention  over  a  few  good 
names  for  women." 

"For  women  ?  It  looks  like  cruelty  to  make  that 
mite  of  a  baby  carry  the  heft  of  a  woman's  name. 
It 's  too  big  a  load.  Better  wait  and  see  if  it  lives 
and  grows  any." 

"A  name  won't  hinder  it  from  growing.  It 's 
heathenish  to  let  it  go  without  a  name." 

"Well  I  reckon  you  're  the  boss  of  it.  Are  you 
going  to  let  it  take  Lane  for  its  surname  ?" 

"No,  its  surname  will  be  the  one  that  belongs  to 
it.  Its  father's  name  was  Despard." 

"Yes, — well,  that 's  settled.  Now  I  '11  tell  you 
my  way  of  thinking,  Hilda.  That 's  a  child  of  Free- 
dom, is  n't  it  ?" 

"Yes,  to  be  sure;  but  I  don't  want  to  call  her 
Freedom." 

"No;  but  how  does  Liberty  strike  you?    If  I 


A  NEW  ADOPTION.  51 

was  naming  a  nigger  baby — a  girl — in  this  day  and 
season  I  'd  call  her  Liberty.  Hooray  for  Abraham 
Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes !" 

"But  drat  the  niggers!"  growled  Andy  Peters. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  could  do  better  than  name 
her  Liberty,"  said  Miss  Lane,  reflectively.  "I 
had  n't  thought  of  that." 

"It 's  the  best  you  '11  find,"  declared  Jerry  Pay- 
son,  decidedly.  "But  I  '11  come  to  the  point  of  my 
business  now,  Hilda.  I  guess  I  've  aggravated  you 
enough  for  one  time.  Judge  Horine  came  to  see 
me  this  morning,  and  asked  me  to  remonstrate  with 
you  about  the  way  you  are  flying  in  the  face  of  pub- 
lic opinion  and  breaking  the  rules  of  Payson  Bend. 
I  told  him  I  did  'nt  feel  called  to  advise  you,  because 
I  thought  you  had  judgment  of  your  own.  I  reckon 
you  know  your  bearings,  and  can  see  your  way  clear 
to  stand  by  your  colors,  Hilda?" 

"Now  what  made  the  judge  bother  you?  •  Why 
did  n't  he  come  to  me  if  he  wants  to  know  which 
way  the  wind  is  blowing  in  this  quarter?" 

"Well,  he  said  he  hoped  a  little  friendly  counsel 
would  bring  you  to  a  sense  of  law  and  order  without 
a  visit  from  any  of  the  town  authorities.  He 's 
one,  you  know.  I  told  him  I  'd  come  and  make  a 
friendly  visit  and  let  you  know  the  feeling  of  the 
public,  but  I  would  n't  agree  to  advise  you  one  way 
or  the  other." 

"I  'm  glad  you  've  got  feeling  and  sense,  Jerry. 
I  'm  just  as  law  abiding  as  anybody,  but  I  take  it 
there  's  times  when  a  body  has  to  use  common  sense 


52  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  judgment,  and  pick  up  grit  to  stand  by  partic- 
ular points  of  justice.  I  try  to  get  fair  ideas  by 
going  round  and  round  a  point  till  I  get  the  up  and 
downs  of  the  outside  and  the  run  of  its  inside  works ; 
then,  if  it  takes  my  notion  of  what 's  right,  I  join 
it  on  to  my  other  ideas,  and  it 's  there  to  stay.  I 
do  n't  want  to  talk  too  much  to  you,  Jerry,  because 
I  do  n't  want  to  get  you  or  anybody  mixed  up  in 
this  mess,  if  the  Payson  Bend  folks  are  bound  to 
stir  up  a  mess  out  of  my  doings.  But,  if  you  feel 
called  to  take  back  any  word  to  Judge  Horine,  you 
can  tell  him  that  I  've  laid  out  to  raise  this  baby  if 
it  lives,  and  if  I  live  to  raise  it.  And  when  he  sees 
a  white  flag  flapping  over  Hilda  Lane's  cottage,  be- 
cause of  her  being  afraid  to  stand  by  the  right  in  the 
face  of  Payson  Bend  authorities,  he  can  be  sure 
she  's  lost  her  mind  and  is  n't  responsible  for  her 
actions." 

"Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes !"  shouted  Jerry  Payson,  catching  at  the 
folds  of  his  chair  flag  exultantly. 

"But  drat  the  niggers !"  muttered  Andy,  wrath- 
fully. 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy,  it  seems  like  a  man  near 
fifty  ought  to  begin  to  see  the  right  of  things,"  com- 
mented Miss  Lane. 

"I  ain't  but  forty-five,  the  same  as  Jerry !" 

"Well,  you  're  past  the  veal  age,  I  reckon,  and 
ought  to  know  jimson  from  clover  by  this  time." 

"Lordy,  Hilda,  you  've  got  the  peskiest  tongue 
that  ever  wagged,  I  reckon." 


A  NEW  ADOPTION.  53 

"Sakes  alive,  you  just  go  over  to  the  looking- 
glass  and  take  a  squint  at  your  own  wagging  tongue, 
Andy,"  retorted  the  woman. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  he,  he!"  laughed  Jerry  Payson. 
"I  'd  say,  Andy,  you  and  me  had  best  retreat  now, 
or  you  and  Hilda  '11  get  to  sharp-shooting  directly. 
It 's  near  six,  anyhow." 

Andy  got  up  rather  sullenly,  and  began  to  wheel 
the  rolling-chair  towards  the  door,  which  Miss  Lane 
opened. 

"Why,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late,  Jerry;  but 
before  you  go  tell  me  how  Lina  is  getting  on." 

A  quick  change  came  over  Jerry  Payson's  face; 
the  merriment  vanished  instantly.  "I  do  n't  think 
there  's  much  change,  Hilda.  She  eats  mighty  little, 
and  sits  humped  up  by  the  fire  in  Peggy's  room  for 
the  most  part,  moaning  and  shivering  as  if  some  sort 
of  chill  had  struck  clean  to  the  marrow  of  her  bones. 
I  'm  uneasy  about  her ;  but  Peggy  thinks  she  '11  get 
better  after  while." 

"O  yes,  I  reckon  she  will ;  but  it  will  take  a  while 
for  her  mind  to  get  settled  after  all  she 's  gone 
through.  But,  there,  my  baby  is  waking  up.  Just 
leave  the  gate  open,  Andy,  Robbie  will  shut  it  after 
while." 

"Say,  Hilda!"  called  back  Jerry  Payson,  "that 
baby's  name  is  Liberty,  mind." 

"Well,  maybe  so.  I  '11  think  about  it,"  replied 
the  woman,  closing  the  door  and  hastening  to  her 
young  charge. 


VL 
A  VAIN  PROTEST. 

A  FEW  days  after  Christmas  Miss  Lane  was  vis- 
ited by  a  committee  of  three  of  Payson  Bend's  most 
influential  personages.  They  were  Judge  Horine, 
Professor  Bentley,  and  Mr.  Hodge,  a  prominent 
citizen  and  Churchman,  who  introduced  the  object 
of  the  visit: 

"We  have  come  on  a  little  friendly  business,  Miss 
Lane,  trusting  that,  as  a  sensible,  Christian  woman, 
you  will  not  take  offense  at  our  errand." 

"I  do  n't  know  as  I  am  one  to  get  riled  without 
reasons,  Mr.  Hodge.  I  can  sense  what  you  Ve  come 
for.  It 's  about  my  new  adoption,  I  suppose." 

"A-hem !  Yes,  we  might  put  it  that  way.  You 
know  the  sentiment  of  our  town  people  against  har- 
boring Negroes,  do  n't  you  ?" 

"You  might  as  well  put  it  stronger  than  mere 
sentiment,  Hodge,"  suggested  Judge  Horine.  "It 's 
an  old  and  well-established  ordinance  of  Payson 
Bend,  that  'no  person  shall  sell  or  rent  property  to 
a  Negro,  nor  employ  or  harbor  one.'  " 

"Yes,  yes;  quite  right.  Well  put  in,  Judge. 
You  see  it  is  our  embarrassing  duty,  on  behalf  of 
our  town,  to  call  your  attention  to  that  important 
54 


A  VAIN  PROTEST.  55 

ordinance,  Miss  Lane.  We  understood  at  first  that 
it  was  doubtful  whether  or  not  your — the  incumbent 
on  your  hands,  would  live;  but  late  reports  incline 
us  to  believe  that  it  is  thriving  at  a  great  rate  under 
your  excellent  care.  To  come  to  the  point:  Don't 
you  think,  as  a  law-abiding  citizen,  you  ought  to 
respect  the  article  our  ancestors  framed,  and  allow 
proper  authorities  to  remove  the  objectionable  in- 
mate from  your  home?" 

"I  want  to  do  what's  right,  Mr.  Hodge.  But 
I  reckon  you  and  me  do  n't  agree  as  to  what  is  my 
Christian  duty." 

"Indeed,  it  is  a  matter  of  regret  if  you  are  not 
fully  informed  of  right  living,  Miss  Lane.  It  is 
one  of  the  first  demands  of  the  Christian  that  he 
live  in  peace  and  harmony  with  his  fellows." 

"I  know,  I  Ve  read  something  like  that  in  the 
Bible.  It  sounds  well,  and  I  do  try  to  live  just  that 
way  with  my  neighbors  when  they  '11  let  me." 

"But  you  can  sin  against  your  neighbors  in  your 
own  home  by  refusing  to  conform  to  their  wishes 
and  to  the  recognized  rulings  of  the  community. 
You  should  study  Christian  ethics." 

"Well,  I  read  in  the  Bible  every  night  before  I 
go  to  bed,  and  I  do  n't  feel  that  I  've  ever  done  any 
great  sin  against  my  neighbors.  I  want  to  be 
friendly  with  everybody.  Maybe  I  do  n't  study  good 
books  like  I  ought  to,  but  I  go  to  Church  regular 
to  hear  the  sermons,  and  I  stay  for  class-meeting 
afterwards  to  learn  all  I  can  from  what  the  salt  of 
the  Church  tell  about  the  ups  and  downs  they  have 


56  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

as  they  go  along  the  road  to  heaven.  It 's  mighty 
touching  to  hear  them.  They're  mostly  old  folks, 
with  a  few  steady  middle-aged  ones  and  a  sprink- 
ling of  young  joiners.  I  never  see  you  at  class- 
meeting,  Mr.  Hodge.  I  asked  Mrs.  Clayton  why 
more  of  the  good  Church  folks  did  n't  stay,  and 
spoke  of  you  in  particular." 

"A-hem !  Well,  I  'm  superintendent  of  the  Sun- 
day-school, and  besides  that  I  usually  have  to  assist 
in  the  morning  Church  service,  so  I  'm  rather  tired 
and  feel  justified  in  going  home  at  the  close  of  the 
sermon.  But  I  suppose  Mrs.  Clayton  explained  my 
position  to  you." 

"Yes,  but  she  made  things  out  a  mite  different." 

"What  did  she  say?"  inquired  Mr.  Hodge, 
affably. 

"Well,  I  do  n't  know  as  you  'd  be  interested,  and 
perhaps  she  did  n't  mean  for  me  to  mention  what 
she  said." 

"I  '11  take  the  responsibility  of  that.  Mrs.  Clay- 
ton is  a  pretty  good  friend  of  mine,  and  would  hit 
the  truth  as  near  as  she  could,  I  think.  I  'd  like  to 
know  what  she  said." 

"Well,  if  you  can't  rest  easy,  I  reckon  I  '11  have 
to  tell  you.  She  said  when  the  preacher  called  on 
you  to  pray  just  after  his  sermon,  you  prayed  so  long 
and  so  loud  you  was  too  wore  out  to  stay ;  and  when 
he  called  on  some  one  else  in  place  of  you,  you  was 
so  mad  you  was  n't  fit  to  stay.  That 's  about  all  she 
said.  You  do  make  mighty  fine  prayers,  Mr.  Hodge. 
I  can't  seem  to  find  words  fast  enough  to  be  a  good 


A  VAIN  PROTEST.  57 

pray-er,  so  I  have  to  be  satisfied  to  be  one  of  the 
common  working  sort  of  Christians.  I  take  it  God 
made  me  for  that,  and  I  try  to  live  and  act  accord- 
ing to  my  light.  When  I  tackle  a  job  of  what  I 
think  is  right,  I  keep  to  it  till  I  get  through  with  it. 
I  told  Rhody  Despard  I  'd  stick  to  her  baby  as  long 
as  it  needed  a  friend,  and  I  'm  going  to  do  it." 

Mr.  Hodge  was  incapable  of  continuing  the  argu- 
ment immediately,  but  Professor  Bentley  took  up  the 
task: 

"Your  charitable  character  is  well  known,  Miss 
Lane.  Your  reputation  as  the  benefactress  of  the 
helpless  has  been  well  earned  and  merits  our  highest 
esteem;  but  it  hardly  justifies  your  present  defiance 
of  an  ordinance  it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  respect." 

"In  plain  words,  you  mean  I  have  n't  any  right 
to  keep  Liberty, — that 's  the  name  of  this  baby  here 
in  the  rocking-chair." 

"Yes,  that  is  what  we  mean.  But  do  n't  miscon- 
strue our  protest  into  any  personal  desire  on  our 
part  to  intrude  upon  your  affairs.  You  have  Robbie 
on  your  hands, — it  would  seem  that  the  care  of  him 
was  a  sufficient  tax  upon  your  sympathy  and  patience 
and  generosity." 

"I  suppose  I  'm  the  best  judge  of  what  I  can 
afford,  and  as  for  sympathy  and  patience  with  the 
helpless,  I  never  allow  mine  to  be  hooped  up  like  a 
bucket  that  can't  give  a  little  without  bursting.  A 
body's  conscience  ought  to  be  hooped  up  so  it  can't 
spread  out  too  much ;  but  sympathy  and  patience  for 
motherless  babies  ought  to  be  like  Indian  rubber,  or 


58  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

something  that  stretches  more  yet.  I  love  Robbie 
more  than  I  can  measure ;  but  my  heart 's  big  enough 
for  Liberty,  too." 

"You  don't  propose  to  raise  those  two  children 
as  equals,  do  you  ?"  questioned  Mr.  Hodge,  who  was 
now  primed  for  another  encounter.  "That  would  be 
an  outrage  to  Robbie  and  to  your  race.  The  very 
Scriptures  make  a  distinction  between  the  races. 
In  Genesis  we  read:  'Cursed  be  Canaan;  a  servant 
of  servants  shall  he  be  unto  his  brethren.'  Of  course 
you  know  that  one  of  Noah's  sons  was  Ham,  a  black 
man,  and  the  father  of  Canaan?" 

"Yes,  I  've  read  about  it.  Old  Noah  got  drunk 
and  kicked  off  his  clothes,  and  Ham  saw  his  naked- 
ness and  sort  of  made  fun  of  his  father  to  his 
brothers,  Shem  and  Japheth.  Well,  that  was  a  mean 
thing  for  Ham  to  do.  It 's  never  right  for  children 
to  make  light  of  their  parents.  And  if  Noah  had 
been  sick  and  out  of  his  head  when  he  kicked  his 
clothes  off,  I  'd  feel  different ;  but  I  take  it  if  a 
fellow  is  low  down  enough  to  get  drunk  and  lay  him- 
self liable  to  get  in  'most  any  fix,  he  ought  to  suffer 
for  it.  Noah  did  wrong  to  cuss  his  boy  the  way  he 
did.  I  never  did  have  much  pity  for  folks  that  get 
mad  and  cuss  somebody  else  for  what  comes  of  their 
own  doings.  It  was  Noah  that  cursed  Ham — not 
God — and  it  is  n't  fair  to  make  Ham's  descendants 
suffer  for  it." 

"But  the  condemnation  will  remain  forever," 
argued  Judge  Horine.  "Ham's  sacrilege  was  an 
index  of  his  moral  caliber,  and  his  descendants  re- 


A  VAIN  PROTEST.  59 

tain  the  heritage  of  mental  and  moral  degradation 
as  well  as  the  black  skins  he  bequeathed  them.  They 
are  unfit — incapable  of  anything  but  the  lowest  servi- 
tude." 

"Well,  there  were  white  men  in  Bible  times  that 
did  things  a  heap  worse  than  what  Ham  did,  and 
nobody  makes  much  fuss  about  it.  Everybody  has 
some  good  points  I  take  it,  and  it  is  n't  fair  to  judge 
a  body  unless  you  can  measure  his  good  points  along 
with  his  bad  ones.  There  was  n't  room  in  the  Scrip- 
tures to  tell  all  about  Ham,  and  so  we  ought  not  to 
judge  him  all  bad  because  he  did  one  mean  thing. 
He  had  some  smartness  I  reckon,  or  he  wouldn't 
have  had  a  land  of  his  own.  I  suppose  Egypt  was 
his  land,  and  nobody  can  say  it  was  n't  him  or  his 
children  that  built  some  of  the  great  things  that 
used  to  be  up  and  down  and  round  about  the  River 
Nile.  It  is  n't  for  us  to  know  who  was  at  the  bottom 
of  some  of  the  odds  and  ends  that  nobody  can  ac- 
count for  in  Egypt,  nor  why  or  when  some  of  Ham's 
children  strayed  off  into  the  wild  places  of  Africa, 
and  lived  with  beasts  and  like  them,  till  they  got 
blacker  and  worse  looking  than  Ham  ever  was.  I 
do  n't  suppose  the  poor  fellow  would  know  his  own 
kinfolks  if  he  could  see  them  to-day.  If  we  'd  all 
take  hold  and  help  to  get  the  whole  lot  of  them  into 
the  way  of  learning  and  decent  living,  they  would 
get  to  be  a  sight  better  looking  and  acting  by 
and  by." 

"A  great  deal  might  be  said  on  that  subject,  Miss 
Lane,  but  the  Negro  will  never  be  anything  more 


60  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

than  a  Negro,"  asserted  Judge  Horine,  a  trifle  im- 
patiently. 

"It  is  n't  words — it 's  works  that 's  going  to  help 
the  colored  folks  along.  But  we  've  all  got  to  own 
up  to  one  thing.  Ham  and  Shem  and  Japheth  were 
brothers,  and  we  all  come  down  from  one  or  the 
other  of  them,  so  we  're  all  kinfolks — black  and 
white.  Things  might  be  worse  than  they  are. 
There 's  just  one  God  at  the  head  of  things,  and  He 
knows  why  things  are  in  such  a  mess.  I  take  it  He 
sent  Liberty  to  me  to  take  care  of,  and  all  the  curses 
of  old  Noah  can't  hinder  me  from  keeping  the  prom- 
ise I  made  to  poor  Rhody  Despard  when  she  lay 
dying  out  in  my  stable  loft." 

"Why,  the  very  manner  of  the  child's  birth  bears 
out  that  ancient  curse !"  declared  Mr.  Hodge,  desper- 
ately. "Its'  mother  recognized  the  fact  that  she  was 
too  inferior  to  claim  or  receive  any  better  shelter 
than  the  habitation  of  beasts.  She  sought  a  stable 
and  gave  birth  to  her  young  befitting  its  rank." 

"Sakes  alive,  Mr.  Hodge,  I  suppose  just  for  the 
minute  you  've  forgot  the  Babe  that  was  born  in 
the  stable  at  Bethlehem !"  exclaimed  Miss  Lane,  with 
sudden  gentleness  in  her  tones.  "I  reckon  we  all 
forget  things,  sometimes.  I  take  it  a  body  's  got  to 
fight  forgetfulness  and  dirt  and  selfishness  as  long 
as  they  stay  in  this  mortal  world.  But  about  the 
Babe  at  Bethlehem — Robbie  and  me  were  going  over 
the  story  Christmas  eve,  and  after  we  got  to  the  end 
Robbie  says:  'Liberty  was  born  in  a  stable,  too. 
Did  God  bring  her,  or  send  an  angel  down  from 


A  VAIN  PROTEST.  61 

heaven  with  her?'  'He  sent  an  angel,'  ^ays  I.  'I 
saw  one  go  up  from  the  pile  of  straw  where  I  found 
her.'  'Was  it  a  black  angel  ?'  says  Robbie.  'Yes,  it 
was  a  black  one,'  says  I. 

"Then  the  little  fellow  got  out  of  my  lap,  where 
I  'd  been  mothering  him,  and  stood  by  the  rocking- 
chair  looking  at  Liberty.  She  was  sleeping  mighty 
sweet  and  peaceful,  and  by  and  by  he  bent  down  and 
kissed  her  for  the  first  time.  I  was  sort  of  flustered, 
and  when  he  came  back  to  my  arms,  I  asked,  'What 
made  you  kiss  Liberty,  Robbie  ?'  '  'Cause  she  came 
from  heaven.  I  did  n't  know  God  made  black  angels 
before.  All  the  pictures  of  Jesus  and  the  angels  are 
white;  but  if  a  black  angel  brought  Liberty,  then 
God  made  her  black  on  purpose,  and  I  'm  going  to 
love  her  just  like  Johnnie  Lee  loves  his  little  sister. 
Why  did  n't  God  make  Liberty  white  ?'  he  asked. 
'Well,'  says  I,  'there  's  things  God  do  n't  want  us 
to  know  till  we  get  to  heaven,  and  that 's  one  of 
them.  Maybe  He  meant  it  as  a  great  favor  to  send 
Liberty  just  as  she  is.  She  's  a  sort  of  Christmas 
present,  only  she  came  a  month  ahead  of  time.  The 
angels  brought  Lina — Mrs.  Radcliffe — a  baby  girl 
to-day ;  it 's  white.  Maybe  she  '11  swap  if  you  'd 
rather,  Robbie,'  I  said,  to  try  the  little  fellow.  But 
he  bounced  off  my  lap  again  and  grabbed  hold  of 
Liberty's  little  hands  and  said:  'I  wouldn't  swap 
Liberty  for  any  baby,  Aunt  Hilda,  'cause  I  s'pect 
God  's  watching  us,  and  would  have  His  feelings 
hurt  if  we  did  n't  like  the  present  He  sent  us !' 

"After  Robbie  was  in  bed  asleep  I  thought  over 


62  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

what  he  had  said.  I  had  meant  to  do  my  full  duty 
by  Liberty,  but  it  came  to  me  all  at  once  that  I 
did  n't  have  the  same  feeling  for  her  I  had  for  Rob- 
bie and  other  white  children.  I  had  n't  felt  any  call 
to  kiss  her,  nor  to  mother  her  close  to  my  bosom. 
I  had  kept  her  in  the  rocking-chair  at  night  close  to 
my  bed  so  I  could  reach  out  and  rock  her  if  she  got 
restless ;  but  Robbie  had  slept  in  my  arms  from  the 
time  I  fetched  him,  a  mite  of  a  baby,  from  the  poor- 
house.  Well,  while  I  was  thinking  that  night,  what 
with  it  being  Christmas  eve  and  me  going  over  in 
my  mind  what  Robbie  had  said,  I  got  mightily 
stirred  up.  And  things  got  worse  when  Liberty 
woke  up  and  lay  there  blinking  her  bright  eyes  at 
me  and  stretching  her  mouth  in  a  broad  grin.  T 
never  did  see  such  friendly,  coaxing  ways  as  she  had 
that  night.  I  got  things  ready  for  the  night,  and 
then  I  took  the  little  thing  into  my  arms  and  went  to 
bed  with  her  hugged  close  to  my  bosom.  The  poor 
little  thing  snuggled  against  me,  and  stuck  one  little 
fist  in  the  jam  of  my  neck,  and  sort  of  settled  down 
with  a  sigh  of  content,  like  a  young  bird  under  its 
mother's  wing.  I  've  never  been  one  of  the  crying 
sort.  I  take  it  that  it  is  n't  any  use  to  cry  over 
things  I  can  help — I  'd  rather  pitch  in  and  do  what 
I  can  to  right  them.  And  it  is  n't  a  mite  of  use  to 
cry  over  things  I  can't  help.  But  my  feelings  got 
the  whip  hand  of  me  just  then,  and  I  burst  out 
crying,  and  sat  up  in  bed  and  hugged  Liberty's  little 
black  face  up  to  mine  and  kissed  her  time  and  again. 
I  'm  nothing  great  for  praying,  but  then  and  there 


A  VAIN  PROTEST.  63 

I  said  to  the  Lord :  'It 's  Christmas  eve,  Lord,  and 
this  is  Hilda  Lane  that 's  talking.  I  wish  you  'd 
please  bear  in  mind  that  I  've  set  out  this  minute 
to  treat  the  little  black  baby  you  've  put  into  my 
hands  just  the  same  as  if  it  was  my  own  flesh  and 
blood.  And  I  wish  you  'd  please  treat  me  from  this 
time  on  according  to  the  way  I  do  by  Liberty  Des- 
pard.'  Well,  from  that  minute  I  've  had  a  mothering 
feeling  for  this  baby  the  same  as  for  Robbie  and 
others. 

"I  don't  like  to  go  against  the  wishes  of  my 
neighbors.  I  never  would  have  brought  a  black  baby 
here  where  it  was  n't  welcome ;  but  you  see,  Liberty 
was  born  here.  She  was  n't  fetched  by  any  doings 
of  mine.  I  take  it  God  knew  the  lay  of  the  land 
when  He  turned  poor  Rhody's  feet  into  my  gate. 
But  I  am  not  breaking  any  ordinance.  You  forgot 
part  of  it  when  you  was  saying  it  over,  Judge.  It 
says:  'No  person  shall  sell  or  rent  property  to  a 
Negro ;  nor  employ,  maintain,  or  harbor  one,  within 
the  town  limits  of  Payson  Bend.'  And  I  suppose 
you  must  have  forgotten  the  cross  road  between  my 
property  and  the  town  limits. 

"  I  Ve  told  you  how  I  feel  about  Liberty.  I  'd 
rather  be  friendly  with  everybody  if  they  '11  let  me 
do  my  duty  in  peace.  And  now  I  've  said  all  I  've 
got  to  say  about  the  business  you  men  came  for." 

"Then  your  conscience  is  clear  of  offense  against 
the  community,  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Hodge,  haughtily. 

"Yes.  The  main  points  of  my  religion  keep  my 
mind  calm  and  steady  in  my  duty.  One  point  is  for 


64  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

me  to  do  the  best  I  can  by  the  duty  that 's  closest 
to  me,  and  it  fits  the  other  point.  I  always  try  to 
'bear  in  mind  that  Jesus  said,  'Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren, 
ye  have  done  it  unto  Me.'  That 's  the  gist  of  my 
religion,  and  I  'm  trying  to  live  up  to  it." 

Without  further  argument  the  three  gentlemen 
took  their  departure  from  Hilda  Lane's  cottage. 
Their  protest  had  been  made  in  vain. 


VII. 

A  BATTLE  OVER  THE  STARS  AND 
STRIPES. 

THE  Payson  house  stood  well  back  from  the 
highway  on  a  slight  rise  of  ground,  and  was  ap- 
proached by  a  smoothly-graveled,  tree-sheltered 
driveway,  which  also  served  as  a  footpath.  Directly 
opposite  this  entrance,  on  the  other  side  of  the  street, 
Miss  Lane's  gate  opened  upon  the  path  to  her  cot- 
tage. Childish  feet  now  kept  a  well-trodden  path 
across  the  road  from  one  gate  to  the  other,  for  Lib- 
erty Despard  and  Victory  Radcliffe,  scarce  a  month 
apart  in  age,  were  intimate  friends  and  the  daily 
sharers  of  each  other's  playthings.  Robbie  Lane, 
now  twelve  years  old,  had  also  a  particular  com- 
panion in  Eric  Horine,  the  only  child  of  Judge 
Horine,  who  lived  opposite  the  cross-road  from  Miss 
Lane  on  the  east. 

It  was  the  summer  prior  to  the  sixth  birthdays  of 
the  two  little  girls  that  the  first  serious  encounter  took 
place  between  them.  The  difficulty  arose  over  a  dis- 
carded chair-flag  which  Jerry  Payson  had  replaced 
with  a  new  one,  and  the  disagreement  aroused  in 
both  children  a  sense  of  racial  difference  never  before 
consciously  considered  by  either. 
5  65 


66  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

It  was  the  first  day  of  July.  Jerry  Payson  sat 
in  his  chair  on  the  front  veranda  waiting  to  have 
his  new  flag  adjusted  to  the  staff  on  his  chair.  Vic- 
tory came  dancing  out  of  the  front  door  with  her 
doll  in  one  hand  and  her  sunbonnet  in  the  other.  She 
was  a  very  charming  tot,  and  generally  sweet-tem- 
pered. Even  Andy  Peters,  who  was  crusty  and 
given  to  faultfinding,  seldom  found  anything  to  dis- 
approve in  the  child. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Victory?"  asked  Jerry 
Payson. 

"Over  to  Liberty's." 

"Well,  you  wait  a  bit.  Go  and  tell  Andy  to  come 
and  take  this  old  flag  off  the  staff  so  you  can  take 
it  with  you.  You  can  let  Liberty  have  a  half  interest 
in  it." 

Andy  came  as  bidden,  and  presently  Victory  ran 
down  the  driveway  screaming  to  Liberty,  who  had 
appeared  at  the  opposite  gate : 

"O  Liberty,  Liberty !  see  what  Uncle  Jerry  gave 
us.  It 's  his  old  flag.  See,  it 's  for  us  to  keep !" 

The  scorching  sun  poured  down  upon  the  road, 
and  of  one  accord  the  children  wavered  from  their 
course  to  meet  at  the  big  Payson  corner-stone  under 
the  grateful  shelter  of  the  giant  oak. 

"What  're  we  going  to  do  with  it,  Victory  ?" 
asked  Liberty,  catching  up  a  fold  of  the  flag  and 
fingering  it  admiringly. 

"Uncle  Jerry  said  you  could  have  half,  so  we  '11 
'vide  it." 

"O  yes,  'course." 


BATTLE  OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          67 

With  much  seriousness  the  pair  doubled  the  ban- 
ner crossways  of  the  stripes,  but  discovering  that 
the  starry  blue  space  was  all  on  one  end  they  made 
a  second  attempt  at  a  fair  division  by  folding  it 
lengthwise  of  the  stripes,  but  the  result  was  the  same. 

"Well,  it 's  got  to  be  'vided  this  way,"  announced 
Victory,  after  a  final  perplexed  survey  of  the  situ- 
ation. "You  take  hold  right  here  and  pull  that  way, 
and  I  '11  pull  this  way.  It  '11  tear  'zactly  in  the  mid- 
dle, and  that  half  '11  be  yours." 

"But  that  '11  make  all  the  stars  come  on  your 
piece,  Victory,"  objected  Liberty,  turning  her  round 
head,  with  its  adornment  of  small  beribboned  braids, 
from  side  to  side  as  her  keen  eyes  took  in  the  pro- 
posed division. 

"Well,  can't  you  see  it 's  got  to  be  that  way?  I 
s'pect  you  ought  to  be  glad  to  get  half  the  stripes. 
It 's  my  Uncle  Jerry's  flag  anyhow.  Pull,  I  tell 
you!" 

"I  won't  'thout  I  can  have  some  stars !  It 's  my 
Uncle  Jerry  too." 

"'Taint  so!"  declared  Victory,  angrily.  "He 
could  n't  be,  'cause  you  're  a  black  girl." 

"It's  just  the  outside  of  me.  Aunt  Hilda  says 
I  'm  'zactly  like  you  on  the  inside !" 

"  'T  aint  so !  I  ain't  like  you,  I  'm  white  all  the 
way  through.  Andy  says  you  're  nothing  but  a 
nigger !  You  let  go  of  my  flag,  I  tell  you !" 

"I  won't  let  go!"  cried  Liberty,  defiantly,  trying 
to  wrench  the  bunting  from  Victory's  grasp.  "Your 


68  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Uncle  Jerry  said  I  could  have  half.  You  're  a — a — 
cry  baby  cripsy !" 

"Let  go,  you  little,  black  nigger  pig!"  screamed 
Victory,  with  flashing  eyes.  And  then  the  battle 
began  in  earnest. 

It  was  a  desperate  encounter.  Victory  was 
slighter,  but  more  lithe  and  active  than  Liberty,  who 
was  stronger.  Each  was  determined  to  get  entire 
possession  of  the  flag,  and  tugged  and  fought  to  that 
end.  Victory's  shrill  screams  and  Liberty's  howls 
fretted  the  atmosphere  in  concert. 

Robbie  Lane  and  Eric  Horine  were  in  the  top 
of  a  June  apple-tree  back  of  the  cottage,  and  being 
nimble  and  fleet  of  foot  they  soon  reached  the  scene 
of  the  conflict;  but  when  Robbie  made  a  move  to 
separate  the  combatants,  Eric — highly  entertained, 
and  a  follower  of  boyish  tactics — demanded  "hands 
off  and  fair  play."  Robbie  persisted,  however,  and 
so  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  an  engagement  with 
Eric,  which  rivaled  the  one  already  in  progress. 

Andy  Peters,  who  was  adjusting  the  new  flag 
to  Jerry's  chair  staff,  dropped  his  handful  of  brass 
clamps  at  Victory's  first  scream  and  ran  to  the  drive- 
way, where  the  view  was  less  obstructed  by  trees, 
to  see  what  was  wrong. 

"O  lordy,  Jerry,"  he  said,  "them  youngsters  are 
having  a  pitch  battle  over  that  old  flag  of  yours." 
He  ran  on  down  to  the  gate,  and  cried  excitedly : 

"Hold  on  to  it,  Victory !  Do  n't  be  beat  out  by  a 
darky!" 

In  vain  Jerry  Payson  called  to  Victory  from  the 


OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          69 

veranda,  and  Miss  Lane  to  Liberty  from  an  upstairs 
window  of  the  cottage,  where  she  was  in  the  midst 
of  her  afternoon  toilet.  Their  voices  were  lost  in 
the  confusion. 

"Hold  your  own,  Victory!  Don't  you  give  up 
to  a  pesky  nigger !"  was  Andy's  oft-repeated  encour- 
agement to  the  one  and  incitement  to  the  other. 

Neither  of  the  girls  was  gaining  any  advantage 
over  the  other,  till  suddenly  Liberty  let  go  of  the 
flag  with  one  hand  and  caught  Victory's  long,  glossy 
braids,  pulling  her  head  backwards  with  a  vicious 
jerk.  Thereupon  Victory  also  let  go  of  the  trophy 
with  one  hand  and  clutched  Liberty  by  several  small 
pink-ribboned  pigtails.  The  maneuver  was  unfor- 
tunate for  both,  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes  now  swept 
the  ground  full  length  and  tripped  the  lusty  oppo- 
nents, who  fell  into  the  dust,  struggling  with  in- 
creasing anger  and  clamor. 

At  this  juncture  Miss  Lane,  exasperated  by  the 
necessity  for  active  interference,  arrived  at  the  affray 
with  a  patchwork  quilt  thrown  around  her,  which 
failed  to  conceal  her  bombazine  petticoat,  or  the  evi- 
dence of  her  toilet  having  been  interrupted  after 
the  removal  of  one  speckled  stocking  and  leather 
slipper  had  been  replaced  with  a  white  hose  and  a 
black  cloth  gaiter.  But  her  singular  appearance 
did  not  prevent  the  effectiveness  of  her  movements. 
She  promptly  lifted  the  fallen  foes  to  their  feet, 
wrenched  the  soiled  and  torn  flag  from  their  clinging 
fingers,  and,  deftly  rolling  it  into  a  ball,  tossed  it 
over  into  the  Payson  yard.  Then  bidding  Robbie 


70  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

to  follow,  she  faced  Liberty  about  and  marched 
homeward. 

Victory,  still  screaming  with  excitement  and 
anger,  recovered  the  treasure,  and  then  ran  up  the 
driveway  straight  to  Jerry  Payson,  who  held  out 
his  arm  to  receive  and  clasp  her  to  his  side,  where 
she  hid  her  tear-wet  face  against  his  shoulder  and, 
with  her  dirty  little  hands  clasped  around  his  neck, 
sobbed  out  her  anguish.  Her  blue  frock  was  soiled 
and  rumpled,  her  dimpled  arms  scratched,  and  her 
lately  combed  hair  half  unbraided  and  minus  a 
ribbon. 

Andy  Peters  came  up  to  the  veranda,  convulsed 
with  laughter,  closely  followed  by  Eric  Horine. 

"The  battle  's  over,  Jerry,  and  nary  a  one  killed. 
Nary  side  licked,  but  the  enemy  was  captured  by 
the  queen  of  the  Fiji  Islands.  O  lordy !  did  you  see 
the  way  Hilda  swooped  down  on  them  youngsters, 
set  them  right  end  up,  confiscated  the  flag,  and  flung 
it  over  the  pickets  of  the  foe  ?  Haw,  haw,  haw ! 
She  marched  off  the  field  with  nary  a  button  on  her 
uniform  that  I  could  see,  and  nary  a  feather  in  her 
topknot ;  but  she  fetched  one  foot  down  in  a  slipper 
and  the  other  in  a  gaiter,  as  proud  as  Yankee 
Doodle!  O  lordy!  Haw,  haw,  haw!  Her  right 
wing  was  black  as  thunder,  but  her  rear  guard 
fetched  up  with  nary  a  weapon  missing,  except  one 
suspender  and  a  wristband  off  of  one  shirt-sleeve." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  egg  Victory  on  that 
way,  Andy.  It  is  n't  right  or  neighborly  to  hiss  on 
a  fuss  like  that,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  sternly. 

"O  lordy,  Jerry,  all 's  fair  in  love  and  war,  you 


BATTLE;  OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          71 

know.  I  had  to  help  on  this  side.  Hilda  was  gen- 
eral of  the  retreat  on  the  other  side.  Haw,  haw, 
haw !  She  was  rigged  up  like  a  Tartar  on  a  war- 
ship with  her  sails  a-flying." 

"How  did  the  fuss  start,  Victory?"  asked  Eric, 
whose  boyish  curiosity  was  fully  aroused. 

"Did  n't  appear  to  be  any  start,"  interposed  Andy. 
"The  whole  army  jumped  into  the  middle  of  the 
fight,  did  n't  it,  Victory  ?" 

"Let  Victory  alone  till  she  gets  calmed  down. 
And  I  guess  you  might  go  downtown  and  get  the 
groceries  Peggy  spoke  about,"  suggested  Jerry  Pay- 
son,  meaningly. 

"Well,  I  '11  water  the  critters  first.  I  suppose 
you  do  n't  want  me  to  finish  fixing  your  new  flag 
before  I  go,"  replied  Andy,  who  was  in  no  hurry  to 
go  downtown. 

"I  forgot  the  flag;  you  can  finish  it  after  you 
water  the  stock." 

Andy  disappeared  around  the  house,  and  Vic- 
tory's sobs  gradually  ceased.  Presently  she  lifted 
her  head  to  see  if  Eric  had  gone.  But  he  was  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  porch  quietly  awaiting  develop- 
ments. He  wanted  to  hear  the  whole  story  before  he 
went  away. 

Andy  Peters  timed  his  return  from  the  stable 
so  as  to  meet  Miss  Lane,  who  came  up  the  drive 
presently,  flushed  with  the  heat,  and  a  trifle  dis- 
turbed in  mind.  He  grinned  and  called  out  while 
she  was  yet  some  distance  away : 

"How  's  your  nigger,  Hilda  ?    And  where  's  that 


72  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

jimcracker  of  a  mantiller  you  had  on  at  your  last 
sally?" 

"I  did  n't  come  over  here  to  talk  about  bedquilts, 
Andy.  I  came  to  get  the  straight  of  that  fight,  so 
I  '11  know  how  to  do  by  Liberty.  She  told  her  side, 
but  I  take  it,  no  matter  how  honest  a  body,  is, 
there  's  bound  to  be  different  points  of  view.  I  want 
to  hear  Victory's  side  now.  Come  here,  pettie,  and 
tell  Aunt  Hilda  how  the  trouble  started  out." 

Victory  loved  Miss  Lane,  and  willingly  sat  on 
her  lap  and  told  her  little  tale  of  woe.  Her  audience 
listened  attentively.  After  explaining  the  primary 
cause  of  the  trouble,  she  paused  and  hung  her  head. 

"I  guess  I  'm  to  blame  for  the  fuss,"  said  Jerry 
Payson.  "I  did  n't  mean  for  you  to  tear  the  flag  in 
two  pieces,  Victory.  I  meant  for  you  and  Liberty 
to  play  with  it  together  as  it  was.  That 's  what  I 
meant  by  giving  her  a  half  interest.  But  I  reckon 
things  are  n't  past  mending,  are  they,  Hilda  ?" 

"No,  I  guess  not,"  replied  the  woman,  hugging 
Victory  closer  to  her.  "Did  you  and  Liberty  say 
ugly  things  to  each  other,  pettie?" 

"Liberty  did.  She  said  she  was  just  like  me 
inside,  and  that  my  Uncle  Jerry  was  hers  too.  She 
said  the  black  was  only  on  the  outside  of  her." 

Andy  stuffed  his  bandana  into  his  mouth  and 
shuffled  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  out  of  range 
of  all  but  Eric,  whom  he  edified  with  various  demon- 
strations of  delight  over  the  child's  recital. 

"What  did  you  say,  pettie?"  asked  Miss  Lane, 
soberly. 


OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          73 

"I  said  she  wasn't  like  me.  And  I  told  her 
Uncle  Jerry  could  n't  be  hers  'cause  she 's  black. 
She  called  me  a  cry  baby  cripsy,  and  I  only  said  she 
was  a  little  black  nigger  pig!"  admitted  the  child 
between  her  sobs,  while  great  tears  rolled  down  her 
muddy  cheeks. 

Andy  fell  to  choking  at  this  admission,  and  Eric 
smothered  his  mirth  with  difficulty. 

"Was  that  all  ?"  queried  Miss  Lane,  gently. 

"Yes,  I  s'pect  so.    We  fitted  then." 

Andy  swayed  back  and  forth  in  glee,  and  Eric 
laughed  aloud.  But  Miss  Lane  said  gravely: 

"Well,  your  story  and  Liberty's  are  as  near  alike 
as  they  could  be,  I  guess.  And  I  do  n't  see  but  what 
one  got  as  bad  scratched  and  messed  up  as  the 
other.  But  it 's  so  about  you  and  Liberty  being  alike 
on  the  inside,  Victory.  God  made  you  alike,  except 
your  skins  and  features.  Liberty  can't  help  being 
black  any  more  than  you  can  help  being  white." 

"I  do  n't  want  to  help  it.  God  did  n't  make  Lib- 
erty, 'cause  Andy  says  the  bad  man  made  niggers 
out  of  monkeys !"  declared  the  child. 

"O  lordy!"  moaned  Andy,  holding  his  sides, 
while  Eric  hung  his  head  and  giggled  outright. 

"Andy  gets  things  mixed  some,  pettie." 

"But  she  ain't  as  good  as  me,  and  she  can't  fly 
up  to  heaven,  'cause  angels  are  white." 

"Can't  black  birds  fly  the  same  as  white  ones, 
Victory?  God  makes  white  birds  and  black  birds, 
and  folks  the  same  way." 


74  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Victory  meditated  a  moment,  and  then  renewed 
her  complaint: 

"Liberty  was  naughty.  The  piece  with  the 
stripes  was  good  enough  for  her,  'cause  she  's  noth- 
ing but  a  nigger." 

"O  lordy,  you  hold  to  that  ideer,  Victory !"  cried 
Andy.  "Stripes  are  for  the  niggers  every  time. 
That 's  what  they  got  in  slave  times — plenty  of 
stripes  and  nary  a  star!" 

"You  shut  up,  Andy!"  commanded  Jerry  Pay- 
son,  impatiently.  "What  makes  you  try  to  poison 
the  child's  mind  that  way  for  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Lane,  "what  good  does  such 
talk  do  you,  Andy  ?  It 's  getting  mighty  low  down 
for  a  man  to  nag  on  a  fight  between  children.  To 
do  that  and  to  bemean  a  poor  little  orphan  like  Lib- 
erty shows  a  meaner  spirit  than  I  gave  you  credit 
for.  I  don't  want  you  to  call  Liberty  names  like 
that  again." 

"When  a  thing  's  black  it 's  no  harm  to  call  it 
black.  And  there  's  such  a  thing  as  mixing  up  black 
and  white  more  than  the  Almighty  set  out  to  do.  I 
wish  every  pesky  nigger  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
lake  of  fire  and  brimstone !"  declared  Andy,  sitting 
•down  on  the  veranda  at  his  favorite  corner. 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy,  have  n't  you  got  plenty  of 
room  in  the  world?"  asked  Miss  Lane.  "Are  the 
colored  folks  crowding  you  in  particular?" 

"  'T  ain't  because  of  room.  It 's  because  I  believe 
in  the  survival  of  the  fittest !" 

"You  do  ?    Well,  I  know  white  folks  that  are  liv- 


OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          75 

ing  this  minute  that  are  n't  any  more  fit  to  survive 
than  the  cholera  or  the  smallpox.  If  God  did  n't 
want  the  Negroes  to  survive,  I  take  it  He  could  get 
rid  of  them  without  your  judgment  on  them,  Andy," 
replied  the  woman. 

"Well,  according  to  that  ideer,  there  was  n't  any 
call  for  you  to  set  Payson  Bend  folks  to  snorting  and 
buzzing  by  keeping  that  little  black  imp  under  their 
noses.  I  reckon  she  would  have  pulled  through 
somehow,  if  the  Almighty  'lowed  for  her  to." 

"He  put  her  into  my  hands,  and  trusted  my  care 
to  help  her  along." 

"Let 's  talk  about  something  else  now,"  inter- 
posed Jerry  Payson.  "There  's  young  eyes  and  ears 
wide  open  pretty  close  round." 

"A  country  that 's  free  for  niggers  ought  to  be 
free  for  a  white  man  to  speak  his  mind  in,"  mumbled 
Andy,  who  was  not  easily  suppressed.  "I  reckon 
I  've  got  some  rights,  even  if  the  world  has  been 
against  me  all  my  life." 

"Well,  maybe  you  and  me  have  both  been  too  free 
with  our  tongues,  Andy,"  said  Miss  Lane,  "and  I  'm 
willing  to  quit,  but  I  '11  wind  up  by  saying  that  it 
is  n't  right  for  you  to  set  children  against  folks  that 
never  did  you  any  harm." 

"Never  done  me  no  harm?  Why,  the  whole 
pack  of  them  are  a  set  of  thieves  and  robbers.  No 
harm?  Why,  one  of  the  pesky  black  scamps  stole 
a  hair  watch  chain  from  me  when  I  was  down  South. 
Yes,  mam,  a  chain  I  wouldn't  have  taken  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for." 


76  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"A  hair  watch  chain?  Is  that  the  heft  of  what 
you  've  got  against  the  Negroes  ?" 

"Ain't  it  a  plenty  ?  I  've  got  a  right  to  hate  the 
whole  pack  of  black  skins!" 

"What  sort  of  hair  was  the  chain?  horse  hair?" 

"No.  It  was  some  hair  I  cut  off  of  a  girl's  head 
when  I  was  a  young  fellow  going  to  singing  schools. 
It  was  about  the  color  yours  was  then,  Hilda,"  re- 
plied the  man,  grimly. 

"Sakes  alive,  it  was  n't  much  for  looks  then ; 
but  it  was  a  harrowing  thing  to  have  it  stolen.  I 
do  n't  blame  you  for  not  liking  the  one  that  took  it, 
but  it  is  n't  fair  to  blame  the  whole  tribe  for  what 
one  of  them  did." 

"Don't  begin  a  fresh  argument,  Andy,"  said 
Jerry  Payson,  uneasily.  "Peggy  needs  that  sugar 
tolerable  quick  now." 

"Let  her  want  it,  you  old,  one-eyed,  one-armed, 
one-legged  Bluecoat !  Do  you  think  all  you  've  got 
to  do  is  to  sit  there  grinning  under  your  pesky  flag 
and  boss  me  around?  If  old  Abe's  nigger  lark 
had  n't  made  mincemeat  of  you  already,  I  'd  mash 
your  mouth !"  retorted  Andy,  fiercely. 

"You  go  away  from  here!"  screamed  Victory, 
running  at  Andy  and  pounding  him  with  her  small 
fists.  "I  '11  kick  you  if  you  hurt  my  Uncle  Jerry !" 

"Come  here,  Victory,"  commanded  Jerry  Payson. 
"Let  Andy  be;  his  bark  is  a  heap  worse  than  his 
bite." 

Andy  strode  over  to  the  twisted  up  flag  that  had 
caused  the  disturbance,  and  which  Victory  had  left 


BATTLE  OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          77 

on  the  floor  beside  her  uncle's  chair,  and  gave  it  a 
vicious  kick  that  sent  it  whirling  out  into  the  drive- 
way. Victory  renewed  her  screams  and  dashed  after 
it,  but  Eric  Horine  was  before  her,  and  catching  up 
the  desecrated  banner  faced  about  with  flashing  eyes, 
exclaiming : 

"If  I  was  big  enough  I  'd  thrash  you  for  that, 
Mr.  Peters !  I  think  you  're  right  in  some  ways  on 
the  nigger  question,  but  when  it  comes  to  insulting 
our  flag,  why  that  }s  a  different  thing !" 

"Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes !"  shouted  Jerry  Payson,  gleefully. 

"But  drat  the  niggers!"  growled  Andy,  wrath- 
fully,  jerking  a  clay  pipe  from  his  pocket  and  dash- 
ing it  to  fragments  on  the  stone  slab  below  the  steps. 

"Well,  I  guess  I  '11  go  up  stairs  and  see  Lina  and 
Peggy  before  I  go  home,"  remarked  Miss  Lane, 
calmly,  as  she  rose  and  made  good  her  words.  Andy 
looked  after  her  with  a  change  slowly  coming  over 
his  countenance.  Presently  he  began  to  pick  up  the 
brass  clamps  lying  on  the  floor. 

"I  '11  finish  fixing  that  new  flag,  Jerry,  and  then 
I  '11  go  and  get  the  groceries  for  Peggy,"  he  said, 
pacifically. 

"All  right,  Andy ;  and  while  you  're  getting 
things  you  'd  best  get  a  dozen  new  pipes,"  replied 
Jerry,  good  humoredly. 

"What  made  you  smash  your  old  pipe,  Mr. 
Peters?"  asked  Eric,  wondering  at  the  sudden  clear- 
ing of  the  atmosphere. 

"Well,  you  see,  Eric,"  explained  Andy,  deliber- 


78  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

ately,  "I  get  so  pesky  mad  sometimes  I  've  got  to 
smash  something  to  keep  from  busting.  I  get  ca'm 
then.  And  my  pipe  's  the  handiest  thing  to  smash. 
I  reckon  the  show  's  over  for  this  time.  If  you  're 
in  a  hurry  you  can  go  home  now." 

"But  I  'm  in  no  hurry.  I  '11  help  Victory 
straighten  out  her  flag  first,"  replied  the  boy,  coolly. 

"I  'm  going  to  cut  off  the  stars  for  me,  and  let 
Liberty  have  all  of  the  stripes,  if  stripes  b'long  to 
niggers,"  declared  Victory. 

"But  they  don't,  Victory;  and  besides  it 
would  n't  be  our  National  flag  with  just  stars,  nor 
with  just  stripes.  And  I  think  it 's  an  awful  thing 
to  tear  up  a  flag, — it 's  nearly  treason,  and  almost 
as  bad  as  tearing  up  a  Bible.  It  is  an  insult  to  our 
Government !" 

Victory  stared  up  into  the  face  of  her  boy  friend 
with  awe-stricken  countenance,  not  comprehending 
his  words,  but  sure  they  were  freighted  with  won- 
derful significance.  Her  respect  for  her  country's 
flag  increased  at  once.  Jerry  Payson  had  listened 
with  interest. 

"Eric,"  he  said,  "you  've  got  the  right  stuff  in 
you  to  make  a  good  soldier,  and  your  ideas  are  tall 
a  plenty,  but  they  are  n't  broad  enough." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?"  asked  the 
puzzled  lad. 

"Well,  by  the  last  part  I  mean  your  ideas  of 
what 's  right  do  n't  spread  out  broad  enough  to 
cover  the  thirteenth  and  fifteenth  articles'  of  the 
amendments.  I  guess  your  father  's  to  blame  for 


OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          79 

that,  though.  You  look  in  your  history,  in  the  last 
part  of  the  Constitution,  and  you  '11  see  what  I  mean. 
But  you  've  got  the  right  idea  about  the  flag.  It 's 
the  prettiest  thing  on  earth  to  my  notion,  and  I  be- 
lieve you  'd  fight  and  bleed  and  die,  if  need  be,  to 
keep  it  floating.  Not  because  of  its  stars  and  stripes, 
but  for  the  things  it  stands  for." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  would,  because  it  stands  for  every- 
thing we  prize  the  most  in  America — rights,  pro- 
tection, liberty,  and  victory!"  replied  the  boy,  with 
patriotism  glowing  in  his  face  and  ringing  in  his 
voice. 

"Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes!"  shouted  the  old  soldier,  exultantly. 

"But  drat  the  niggers!"  breathed  Andy,  in  a 
stage  whisper. 

With  sudden  alacrity  Victory  spread  the  much 
abused  banner  on  the  grass,  and  then  stood  gazing 
at  its  battle-marked  stars  and  stripes  meditatively. 

"Shall  I  tack  it  on  a  pole  for  you  before  I  go 
home  ?"  asked  Eric,  presently. 

"I  do  n't  want  it  on  a  pole.  Show  me  which  part 
is  Liberty  and  which  is  me." 

"Whatever  do  you  mean,  Victory  ?" 

"Why,  you  said  the  flag  meant  lots  of  things,  and 
Liberty  and  me,  did  n't  you  ?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha !"  laughed  Jerry  Payson.  "There  's 
other  kinds  of  liberty  and  victory  besides  little  girls. 
It  takes  the  whole  flag  to  mean  liberty,  and  the 
whole  thing  to  mean  victory;  you  can't  get  them 
apart.  I  tell  you  what  we  '11  do,  Victory.  We  '11 


8o  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

swing  that  flag  out  under  the  Payson  oak  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  you  and  Liberty  can  meet 
there  and  make  up,  and  play  'Rally  Round  the  Flag.' 
You  '11  both  have  the  whole  flag  then  and  equal 
rights.  Will  that  suit  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  s'pect  so,"  replied  the  child,  interpreting 
the  compromise  in  her  own  way,  and  relieved  to  have 
the  difficulty  settled.  "Let 's  put  it  there  now,  Eric." 

"I  reckon  I  'd  best  help  and  have  the  job  done 
right,"  mumbled  Andy,  who  had  finished  his  task. 

"Just  wheel  me  down  there,  too,  Andy.  It  '11 
have  to  be  swung  just  to  clear  the  ground,  and  fixed 
handy  to  take  down  of  nights.  The  fun  of  it  '11 
soon  wear  out,  then  we  '11  put  it  up  in  the  garret 
with  the  others  that  have  worn  out  in  service." 

The  banner  soon  hung  with  its  bright  length 
downwards  under  the  famous  tree.  Andy  wheeled 
Jerry  Payson  back  to  the  house,  and  then  went  on 
his  way  to  the  store.  Victory  ran  to  the  cottage  to 
find  Liberty  and  declare  peace.  But  Eric  Horine, 
full  of  boyish  curiosity,  hid  behind  the  big  rock  and 
waited  to  hear  what  terms  the  little  girls  would  make 
over  it. 

The  pair  soon  arrived  almost  breathless  from 
running.  Victory  proceeded  to  explain  the  situ- 
ation : 

"Uncle  Jerry  didn't  mean  for  us  to  'vide  the 
flag  in  two  pieces,  'cause  it  takes  all  of  one  side  to 
mean  me,  and  all  of  the  other  side  to  mean  you !" 

"O  yes — course,"  agreed  Liberty,  with  utter 
blankness  in  her  countenance. 


BATTLE;  OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          81 

"And  so  you  '11  have  to  live  on  your  side,  and 
I  '11  live  on  mine ;  but  we  can  go  visiting,  and  'sides 
we  can  play  'Rally  Round  the  Flag !'  " 

"O  yes — course,"  was  the  prompt  response. 
"You  like  me  now,  don't  you?" 

"I  have  to,  Liberty,"  replied  Victory,  solemnly. 
"God  made  white  birds  and  black  birds  'cause  He 
wanted  to,  and  folks  that  way,  too.  But  He  likes 
white  folks  best  'cause  He  made  flags  for  them, 
only  He  makes  them  'vide  their  flags  with  the  nig- 
gers-;  He  did  n't  make  any  just  on  purpose  for  nig- 
gers, you  know." 

"Of  course,  not.    Why  did  n't  He?" 

"I  do  n't  know,  but  I  s'pect  He  did  n't  have  stuff 
enough,  or  mebby  the  niggers  were  too  naughty. 
If  they  '11  be  good  for  a  long,  long  time  I  s'pect  He 
will." 

Liberty  shook  her  beribboned  head  doubtfully, 
and  the  tears  that  had  slowly  gathered  in  her  eyes 
rolled  down  her  cheeks  in  melancholy  drops. 

"Do  n't  cry,  Liberty,"  said  Victory,  regretting 
the  things  that  were,  and  picking  up  the  hem  of  her 
dress  to  wipe  away  the  other's  tears,  "you  're  made 
just  like  me  inside  anyhow,  you  know.  Mebby 
you  '11  fade  out  white  if  you  '11  be  good  a  long  time, 
'cause  look,  the  inside  of  your  hands  and  the  bot- 
toms of  your  feet  are  fady  now." 

"Will  I  get  white  like  you  ?"  asked  Liberty,  hope- 
fully. 

"I  said,  mebby.  I  do  n't  know  for  sure.  I  '11  ask 
6 


82  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Andy — he  knows  lots  about  niggers.     Let 's  play 
visiting  now." 

"O  yes — course.  Which  is  my  side  of  the  flag?" 
asked  the  child,  comparing  both  sides  of  the  banner 
critically,  and  finally  lifting  a  fold  of  the  bunting 
to  examine  the  lapped  edges. 

"The  side  next  Aunt  Hilda's  house,  of  course," 
said  Victory. 

"Which  is  the  wrong  side?"  questioned  Liberty, 
suspiciously. 

"There  is  n't  any  wrong  side  to  a  flag,  Liberty," 
responded  Victory,  severely.  "It 's  only  wrong  folks 
that  s'pects  there  is !" 

"O,  course !"  responded  the  little  black  girl,  drop- 
ping the  bunting  and  her  doubts  instantly. 

There  was  a  whoop  from  behind  the  rock,  and 
Eric  Horine,  delighted  at  Victory's  aptness,  rushed 
forward  and,  catching  her  under  the  arms,  swung 
her  lithe  body  around  in  a  series  of  circles. 

"There,  little  patriot!"  he  exclaimed,  when  at 
last  he  stood  her  on  her  feet  dizzy  from  the  whirl, 
and  dropped  on  one  knee  beside  her,  "you  're  the 
cunningest  little  thing  I  eVer  saw,  Victory!" 

The  child  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  to  steady 
herself  a  moment,  and  allowed  him  to  kiss  her  rose- 
bud lips  repeatedly. 

"I  s'pect  Liberty  's  cunning  too,"  she  suggested 
magnanimously.  "Do  her  this  way  now,  Eric." 

"I  have  n't  time  just  now.  I  've  got  to  hurry 
home  and  hunt  up  something  in  my  history,"  replied 


OVER  STARS  AND  STRIPES.          83 

the  boy,  running  away  with  a  comical  grin  on  his 
merry  face. 

And  thus  the  days  of  childhood,  sometimes 
briefly  clouded,  but  always  clear  at  sunset,  were  told 
off  to  the  children  that  played  about  the  old  Payson 
corner-stone.  Played  and  battled  through  miniature 
comedies  and  tragedies ;  loved  and  hated  each  other ; 
sported  and  broke  their  brittle  toys;  sang  with  the 
birds ;  brooded  with  thought ;  questioned,  developed, 
wearied  of  childish  things,  and  set  their  faces  toward 
higher  and  more  enduring  ideals. 

The  girls,  each  more  and  more  fully  occupied 
with  duties,  studies,  and  separate  interests,  naturally 
drifted  away  from  the  habit  of  daily  companionship. 
Liberty  was  debarred  from  the  public  school  and 
from  all  social  advantages  in  Payson  Bend.  But 
Robert,  always  thoroughly  in  earnest,  led  her 
through  the  graded  school  course  with  rigid  ex- 
action at  home;  and  a  music  teacher  came  from 

H every  week  for  years  to  develop  the  child's 

marked  talent  for  music. 

But  between  Robert  Lane  and  Eric  Horine  the 
intimacy  begun  in  early  childhood  continued  until 
after  they  had  taken  their  university  degrees  to- 
gether, and  diverging  paths  did  not  weaken  their 
friendship. 


VIII. 
A  MORNING  IN  MAY. 

It  was  a  brilliant  May  morning.  Nearly  fifteen 
years  had  passed  since  the  hot  July  day  which  had 
witnessed  the  childish  battle  over  the  Stars  and 
Stripes.  During  the  interval  Payson  Bend  had  re- 
ceived the  stimulus  of  a  railroad  along  its  western 
border,  and  had  prospered  accordingly. 

The  old  Payson  place  remained  much  the  same 
as  of  yore.  True,  the  trees  had  grown  more  stately, 
and  a  few  red  garden  benches  scattered  about  the 
lawn  lent  brighter  touches  of  color  than  its  older 
somberness  afforded.  The  sedate  mansion  also  re- 
vealed evidences  of  a  progressive  spirit  domiciled 
within.  Up-to-date  window  shades  and  dainty  lace 
draperies  replaced  the  old  blue  paper  curtains,  and 
the  broad  veranda  was  graced  with  various  furnish- 
ings— a  low  table,  some  rockers,  a  gayly  colored 
hammock,  several  handsome  pot  plants,  and  across 
the  west  end  a  luxuriant  rosebush  climbed  and  sent 
out  fragrant  streamers  at  its  own  sweet  will. 

Amid  these  newer  trifles  the  familiar  figure  of 

Jerry  Payson  in  his  roller  chair,  with  the  folds  of  a 

handsome  flag  touching  the  empty  sleeve  at  his 

right  side,  dispelled  any  doubt  as  to  who  was  now 

84 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  85 

master  of  the  well-preserved  residence.  The.  sunny- 
hearted  old  soldier  bore  marks  of  time  in  the  silver- 
ing hair  that  wreathed  his  finely-lined  temples  and 
forehead,  but  his  cheeks  were  smooth  and  rosy,  his 
single  eye  blue  and  merry,  and  his  spirits  were  as 
buoyant  as  if  the  secret  of  eternal  youth  were  his. 

Another  familiar  figure  in  the  foreground  of  the 
Payson  place  that  bright  May  morning  was  that  of 
Andy  Peters,  who  was  mowing  the  lawn  and  grum- 
bling as  usual.  The  years  weighed  heavily  on  him, 
as  was  evidenced  in  his  bowed  shoulders,  stiff  joints, 
and  bristly  white  hair;  and  his  face  was  deeply  in- 
dexed by  the  bickerings  and  chafings  of  an  unhappy 
spirit. 

But  how  much  more  striking  was  the  change  the 
years  had  wrought  in  Victory  Radcliffe,  the  hand- 
some young  woman  of  nearly  twenty,  who  came 
through  the  wide  doorway,  drawing  on  a  pair  of 
white  chamois  gloves  and  humming  a  gay  little 
melody.  No  need  to  wonder  whose  will  instituted 
the  later  improvements  about  the  premises,  for  Vic- 
tory's genius  was  the  charm  and  inspiration  of  her 
home. 

Her  simple  white  straw  hat,  blue  print  frock  with 
spotless  linen  collar  and  muslin  tie,  suited  her  fresh 
complexion  and  fine  form  perfectly,  and  brought 
out  the  rich  luster  of  her  blue-black  hair,  straight 
eyebrows,  and  heavy  lashes. 

"Ta,  ta,  Uncle  Jerry,"  she  said,  leaving  a  kiss  on 
his  forehead  and  hurrying  away.  "I  '11  have  to  skip 
or  I  '11  be  late,  and  that  would  be  a  disgrace  for  a 


86  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

schoolteacher  of  my  reputation.  I  've  just  four  min- 
utes to  get  there  in.  Ta,  ta,  Andy !" 

Both  men  watched  the  girl  out  of  sight  with  ad- 
miring glances.  She  was  the  one  bright  particular 
star  within  the  horizon  of  each. 

"I  reckon  God  never  did  a  finer  job  than  when 
He  made  our  Victory,"  remarked  Jerry  Payson  when 
Andy  had  reached  the  end  of  a  swath  near  the 
veranda. 

"She 's  fine  enough  to  look  at,  but  she  's  mighty 
headstrong,"  responded  Andy,  gloomily,  as  he  turned 
the  mower  about. 

"You  'd  better  rest  a  bit,  Andy.  Take  that  rock- 
ing-chair, you  're  just  about  tuckered  out." 

"Guess  I  will  stop  and  take  a  smoke,  but  I  'm 
nearly  out  of  tobacco.  I  forgot  to  get  some  yester- 
day when  I  was  at  the  store." 

"As  for  Victory  being  headstrong — that  do  n't 
hurt  her  a  speck.  It  might  if  she  did  n't  have  so 
much  sound  sense  and  grit.  She  's  made  of  the  right 
stuff  to  keep  her  marching  ahead,  war  or  peace. 
O  glory,  what  a  soldier  she  'd  make  if  she  was  a 
man !" 

"There  's  no  telling  about  that ;  she  might  n't  be 
much  after  all.  Loan  me  your  hunk  of  chewing 
tobacco,  Jerry.  I  '11  have  to  shave  off  a  little  to 
piece  out  with.  It  is  n't  worth  while  to  sit  down  to 
smoke  a  pipe  half  full.  I  wish  you  smoked  instead 
of  chewing,  Jerry.  This  tobacco  business  would  be 
a  heap  more  company  then." 

"Maybe  so,  but  I  couldn't  give  up  chewing. 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  87 

Why,  I  can  sit  with  my  eyes  shut  and  chew  and 
chew  and  see  sights  'way  back  in  war  times,  till  I 
feel  like  I  'm  marching  along  with  my  knapsack  on 
my  back  and  my  canteen  and  other  traps  slugging 
against  my  side  as  plain  as  anything.  Maybe  you 
won't  believe  it,  Andy,  but  there  's  times  when  I 
can  actually  feel  the  grip  of  my  hand — the  one  that 's 
off — around  my  musket,  I  can  so — and  hear  the 
fifes  and  the  drums  and  the  steady  tromp,  tromp, 
tromp  of  the  Boys  in  Blue.  And  see  the  old  flag, 
gone  to  rags  sometimes,  but  always  a  flying  as  proud 
as — O  glory!  Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and 
the  Stars  and  Stripes !" 

"But  drat  the  niggers!"  muttered  Andy,  softly. 

"And  there  's  times  when  I  seem  to  be  in  battle, 
and  I  get  cold  and  shaky,  and  my  heart  thumps  like 
it  did  on  the  field  when  I  'd  see  the  boys  falling  right 
and  left,  and  hear  them  groaning  and  begging  for 
help,  or  praying  for  death,  as  their  blood  trickled 
out  on  the  ground.  I  'd  like  to  forget  that  part. 
And  again  I  'm  in  camp  where  the  boys  are  spin- 
ning yarns,  or  singing  to  forget  how  hungry  they 
are  and  how  far  from  home. '  It  makes  the  tears 
come  to  my  eyes  to  this  day  to  think  how  they  'd 
get  off  a  lot  of  unfeeling  nonsense  to  make  believe 
they  were  happy  when  every  mother's  son  of  them 
was  nearly  dead  with  homesickness  and  misery.  I 
mind  our  camp  at  Cedar  Creek  that  October  day 
when — " 

"O  lordy,  I  suppose  you  do !  You  mean  the  day 
old  Early's  boys  slipped  up  on  you  fellows  and 


88  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

swiped  up  your  artillery  and  sent  you  flying  sky 
west  and  crooked  before  you  knew  what  ailed  you. 
Haw,  haw,  haw !  You  forgot  how  to  march  on  the 
road  to  Winchester.  You  Blue  Coats  loped  over  the 
ground  like  a  pack  of  jack  rabbits  before  a  prairie 
fire !" 

"I  guess  it  did  look  that  way  from  your  point 
of  view,"  replied  Jerry  Payson,  with  a  good-natured 
laugh ;  "but  you  see  we  felt  stirred  to  take  a  double 
quick,  so  to  speak,  till  we  met  General  Sheridan. 
But  we  got  back  to  Middletown  fast  enough,  too, 
I  mind.  You  fellows  in  Gray  had  n't  got  done  lick- 
ing your  chops  after  feed  time  when  we  sallied  up 
and  scared  the  daylights  out  of  you.  O  glory,  but 
that  was  a  squelcher  for  Early's  army." 

"You  bet  it  was !  And  there  's  where  you  and 
me  came  face  to  face  the  first  time  in  battle,  so  far 
as  we  know,  up  to  that  time  in  the  war,  was  n't  it, 
Jerry?  I  mind  the  hitch  I  took  in  my  breath  when 
1  saw  you  there  not  more  than  a  dozen  yards  from 
the  muzzle  of  my  gun."  Andy  cast  a  swift  glance 
at  his  companion  as  he  finished,  then  gazed  intently 
at  the  gables  of  Hilda  Lane's  cottage,  only  partly 
visible  through  the  intervening  foliage. 

"Nothing 's  strange  in  war.  But  I  did  n't  see 
you  that  time,  you  know.  I  'd  like  to  forget  that 
skirmish.  It  took  my  eye.  I  was  off  duty  for  a 
while  after  that." 

"And  your  very  next  battle  took  your  leg  and 
arm,  did  n't  it  ?"  asked  Andy,  quietly,  although  they 
had  gone  over  the  story  dozens  of  times. 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  89 

"Yes.  I  was  n't  fit  for  duty  yet,  but  I  begged 
leave  to  go  with  my  company." 

"And  you  found  old  Early's  army  sort  of  resur- 
rected again,  did  n't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sort  of,  but  not  spry  enough  yet  to  keep 
our  plucky  old  Sheridan  from  licking  it." 

"You  came  pretty  close  to  the  River  Jordan  any- 
how," declared  Andy,  doggedly. 

"Tolerable  close,  yes.  There  's  where  my  right 
hand  held  a  gun 'for  the  last  time ;  there  's  where  my 
left  foot  took  its  last  step,  and  where  my  heart  came 
near  beating  its  last  tattoo,"  replied  Jerry  Payson, 
with  a  gulp  of  emotion. 

Andy  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  scarcely 
conscious  of  the  act.  His  face  was  twitching  pain- 
fully, but  he  continued  to  gaze  at  the  gables  of  Miss 
Lane's  cottage.  "I  reckon  I  '11  have  to  get  to  work 
if  I  'm  going  to  get  done  by  noon,"  he  remarked 
presently. 

"I  wish  you  'd  let  me  hire  Sam  Hobbs  to  tend 
the  lawn,  Andy.  He  needs  the  wages,  and  he  's 
better  able  than  you.  It  grits  on  my  feelings  to 
see  you  work  so  hard." 

"You  need  n't  look  at  me  if  I  'm  such  an  aggra- 
vating show.  But  Sam  Hobbs  shan't  touch  this 
lawn.  He'd  spoil  it  first  lick..  I  don't  know  as 
I  'm  plumb  played  out  yet." 

"Well,  you  are  n't  as  peart  as  you  was  that  day  at 
Cedar  Creek." 

"Nor  you,"  retorted  Andy,  with  a  furtive  glance 
at  the  other. 


90  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"That 's  a  fact,  but  I  've  no  notion  of  camping 
in  a  graveyard  yet  awhile.  I  've  got  a  heap  to  be 
thankful  for  one  way  and  another.  God  has  done 
a  good  part  by  me  in  more  than  one  way;  so  has 
Uncle  Sam." 

"You  have  n't  got  enough  blessings  to  make  up 
for  what  you  've  lost.  The  world  's  against  you  the 
same  as  me,  Jerry,  only  you  do  n't  seem  to  know  it." 

"It's  according  to  how  a  body  sizes  things  up 
whether  I  've  lost  more  than  I  've  got  left.  It  do  n't 
do  to  measure  by  the  strength  of  an  arm  or  the 
length  of  a  leg.  And  besides,  Andy,  the  members 
I  gave  up  on  the  battlefield  are  n't  lost ;  it 's  a  pleas- 
ure to  know  that." 

"Are  n't  lost  ?  That 's  curious.  I  reckon  it  would 
take  the  Almighty  to  find  them  now,  anyhow. 
Where  are  they,  if  they  are  n't  lost  ?" 

"Well,  they  're  laid  up  in  Government  bonds,  so 
to  speak,  and  they  're  fetching  in  good  interest.  Of 
course,  I  'd  rather  be  a  whole  man  than  to  have  the 
biggest  pension  a-going,  but  God  left  me  one  arm 
and  hand  to  chase  the  flies  off  with  and  to  lift  grub 
to  my  mouth,  and  that 's  a  blessing.  And  I  've  got 
one  good  eye  to  read  the  papers  with,  so  I  can  feel 
happy  over  the  news  of  how  the  country  I  helped 
save  from  splitting  up  and  from  the  disgrace  of 
slavery  is  marching  on  to  bigger  things  every  year, 
and  that 's  a  blessing.  And  it 's  worth  a  heap  to  be 
able  to  see  my  friends  and  the  flag  and  growing 
things,  and  to  look  up  in  the  sky  where  the  edges 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  91 

of  things  I  can  see  now  touch  the  edges  of  things 
I  '11  see  by  and  by." 

"I  reckon  you  've  forgot  the  tiresome  job  you  've 
had  sitting  in  a  chair  mostly  for  the  rise  of  thirty- 
five  years,"  muttered  Andy. 

"That's  one  of  the  things  I  set  out  to  forget 
every  day.  The  devil  reminds  me  of  it  the  first 
thing  when  I  wake  up  in  the  morning  and  can't 
dress  myself.  He  nudges  me  about  it  now  and 
then  through  the  day  and  when  I  'm  getting  ready 
for  bed  at  night ;  but  it 's  just  by  spells.  I  can  almost 
forget  it  the  most  of  the  time.  But  what  is  n't  tire- 
some if  a  body  keeps  it  up  ?  Why,  I  've  laughed  till 
my  jaws  ached  and  I  was  lame  all  over,  but  I  never 
thought  it  such  terrible  hard  work.  And,  besides 
my  other  blessings,  I  've  got  Peggy  and  Victory  and 
Hilda  and  you,  Andy.  Did  you  ever  think  that  you 
and  me  would  n't  have  been  living  together  like 
brothers  all  these  years  if  it  had  n't  been  for  the  fix 
I'm  in?" 

A  spasm  of  pain  contracted  Andy's  features.  He 
bent  down  and  pulled  some  grass  out  from  between 
the  blades  of  the  mower,  ignoring  the  question. 

"And  then  there  's  the  wag  of  my  tongue, — 
that 's  a  blessing.  It 's  mighty  comforting  to  talk." 

"I  reckon  we  all  like  to  wag  our  tongues,  Jerry ; 
but  any  fool  can  do  that,"  replied  Andy,  reflectively. 

"Yes,  and  they  enjoy  it  just  the  same.  But  say, 
Andy,  there 's  a  dandelion  in  the  next  swath.  It 
reminds  me  of  when  I  was  a  boy  and  mother  would 


92  HiivDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

take  me  with  her  to  get  a  mess  of  dandelion  greens 
early  in  the  spring,  to  cook  with  a  piece  of  smoked 
jowl.  My,  but  that  was  larruping  good  truck!  I 
wish  you  'd  leave  that  posy ;  I  've  had  my  eye  on  it 
all  morning.  It 's  plumb  sassy  with  yellowness." 

"Well,  it 's  going  to  get  out  of  there  root  and 
head  right  now.  I  haven't  worked  all  these  years 
to  get  rid  of  the  pesky  things  just  to  give  them  a 
fresh  start.  You  're  the  worst  fellow  to  see  sights, 
Jerry." 

"Maybe  it 's  my  way  of  looking  at  things.  But 
that  dandelion  is  yellower  than  common.  I  wish 
you  'd  leave  it.  It 's  doing  it 's  level  best  to  make 
one  little  spot  in  the  world  bright  and  happy.  That 's 
all  anybody  or  thing  can  do,  I  reckon." 

"That  is  n't  any  sort  of  reason  for  leaving  this 
pesky  weed.  I  never  found  any  spot  in  the  world 
where  I  could  be  bright  and  happy.  The  whole 
concern  's  been  against  me  all  my  life,"  replied  the 
man,  sullenly,  as  he  pushed  the  mower  over  the  inno- 
cent dandelion,  leaving  it  crushed  and  quivering, 
its  golden  hour  forever  ended. 

Miss  Lane  came  in  at  the  gate  at  that  moment, 
saying  cheerily : 

"Your  lawn  looks  finer  than  ever  this  year,  do  n't 
it,  Andy?" 

"Not  a  mite  finer  than  last  year,  nor  as  fine. 
There  was  n't  a  dandelion  in  its  last  year." 

"Sakes  alive,  I  do  n't  see  any  now !" 

"Well,  you  would  if  you  'd  come  a  minute  sooner. 
I  just  laid  out  one  of  the  pesky  things.  You  've  got 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  93 

a  big  crop  of  them  in  your  back  yard,  I  notice.  I 
wish  you  'd  bring  a  bunch  of  nice  yellow  ones  to 
Jerry  next  time  you  come  over.  He  's  hankering 
for  some." 

"There 's  worse  things  than  dandelions  in  the 
world,  Andy,"  retorted  the  woman,  going  on  her 
way.  "Good  morning,  Jerry.  I  Ve  got  a  letter  from 
Robert." 

"I  guessed  that.  Robert's  letters  always  show  in 
your  face  somehow.  Good  news,  I  reckon?" 

"Yes,  leastwise  if  things  come  to  pass  as  Robert 
wants  them,  it  means  pleasant  times  ahead  for  Lib- 
erty and  me.  It 's  about  the  schools  here.  Eric 
Horine  is  going  to  give  up  the  principalship  here, 
and  wants  Robert  to  take  his  place.  Robert  is  going 
to  send  in  his  application  this  week.  What  do  you 
think  about  it,  Jerry  ?" 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  why  he  shouldn't  get 
the  position.  He 's  a  favorite  with  Payson  Bend 
folks  in  general,  and  he  's  got  the  education  and  his 
two  years'  experience  at  Kingly.  He  ought  to  get 
in  his  bid  pretty  spry,  though.  The  school  board 
have  their  meeting  to  hire  teachers  before  the  month 
is  out." 

"Yes,  Robert  knows  that,  and  Liberty  is  writing 
to  him  now  to  tell  him  how  glad  we  '11  be  to  have 
him  home  again." 

"I  thought  Robert  was  fixing  to  be  a  preacher, 
Hilda?"  remarked  Mrs.  Strong,  who  had  brought 
her  sewing  out  on  the  veranda.  "Is  he  getting  over 
that  notion?" 


94  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"No,  but  he  is  n't  ready  yet.  He  is  studying  to 
be  a  preacher  all  the  time  he  can  spare  from  his 
teaching.  He  wants  to  go  to  a  regular  preachers' 
school  in  a  year  or  two  to  finish  up  with.  Then  he  '11 
start  out  to  preach,  I  reckon.  That 's  why  I  '11  be 
so  glad  to  have  him  get  the  school  here,  so  I  can  have 
him  home  for  a  while  before  he  gets  tied  so  he  can't 
come  and  go  as  he  pleases.  It  '11  be  a  great  thing 
for  Liberty,  too.  She  got  through  with  her  high- 
school  books  last  year,  you  know,  and  she  's  work- 
ing on  some  of  Robert's  college  studies  now  and 
needs  more  help  than  he  can  very  well  give  her  by 
coming  home  twice  a  month  like  he  does  now.  He 
makes  her  learn  things  mighty  perfect,  and  puts  her 
through  what  she  's  got  over  every  time  he  comes. 
She  's  smart  in  books.  She  '11  be  ahead  of  Victory 
in  college  books  directly  if  she  keeps  on.  But  of 
course  Victory  's  been  teaching  two  years,  and  that 
takes  the  place  of  study,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  and  Victory  has  chances  to  pick  up  a  heap 
among  folks  and  at  places  where  Liberty  can't  go. 
We  '11  be  proud  to  have  Robert  and  Victory  both  in 
our  schools  right  at  home;  won't  we,  Hilda?"  said 
Jerry  Payson. 

"We  '11  have  reasons  to  be.  And  Liberty  has  a 
notion  of  teaching  when  she  gets  her  education  fin- 
ished, too.  Only  she  '11  have  to  go  among  her  own 
people  to  get  a  place.  That's  what  she  wants  to 
do — help  the  colored  folks  along.  She  's  chuck  full 
of  ideas  of  what  she  '11  do  for  them  by  and  by.  She 
didn't  grow  up  in  company  with  Robert  and  Vic- 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  95 

tory  and  Flossie  Bruce  for  nothing.  She'd  push 
them  to  keep  pace  with  her,  too,  if  she  was  n't  black. 
When  she  was  little,  Robert  had  to  nag  at  her  some 
to  keep  her  at  her  books,  but  she  don't  need  any 
pushing  now.  Her  whole  mind  is  bent  on  learning. 
She  can  sew  and  do  all  sorts  of  housework  as  good 
as  I  can,  and  besides  all  that  she  can  get  more  music 
out  of  the  piano  than  any  girl  in  Payson  Bend,  if 
I  do  say  it.  She  do  n't  take  to  some  kinds  of  music, 
maybe,  but  when  she  sings  to  her  playing  it  always 
seems  to  me  she  's  got  the  sort  of  judgment  in  pick- 
ing her  pieces  that  strikes  into  the  heart  and  soul 
of  what 's  best.  She  's  got  high  notions  of  what  her 
people  can  be  brought  to,  and  she  thinks  it  '11  be 
plainer  to  them  that  other  black  girls  can  be  made 
into  something,  if  she  proves  it  by  herself.  I  hate 
to  think  of  the  time  she  '11  leave  me,  but  I  won't  lay 
a  straw  in  her  way.  I  gave  her  a  thousand  dollars 
the  day  she  was  eighteen,  the  same  as  I  did  my  other 
adoptions,  and  she  '11  have  that  to  help  her  through 
college.  I  '11  see  to  it  she  has  plenty  of  clothes,  and 
my  home  will  be  hers  to  come  to  as  long  as  I  live. 
I  look  for  her  to  do  great  things  for  her  race,  and 
I  'd  like  to  live  long  enough  to  see  her  ideas  worked 
out." 

"A  nigger's  no  business  with  ideers!"  declared 
Andy  Peters,  who  had  paused  in  his  work  as  he 
neared  the  veranda.  "It 's  bad  enough  to  have  them 
free  to  gad  over  the  country  amongst  their  betters, 
without  setting  them  up  to  feel  like  they  're  better 
than  white  folks." 


96  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  take  it  a  colored  girl  with  high  notions  that 
she  lives  up  to  as  well  as  she  can  is  better  than  a 
white  person  with  low  down  notions  that  they  more 
than  live  out.  Liberty's  ideas  run  on  ways  to  make 
her  folks  better,  and  she  do  n't  waste  time  thinking 
and  saying  mean  things  about  the  people  that 
brought  misery  on  her  race." 

"Well,"  interposed  Jerry  Payson,  "I  Ve  never 
forgot  what  Rhody  Despard  did  for  one  of  my  blood. 
I  did  n't  have  a  chance  to  do  her  a  good  turn,  but 
I  Ve  got  my  eye  on  Liberty.  When  she  gets  ready 
to  work  out  some  of  her  notions,  I  '11  look  them  over 
and  put  my  name  to  a  piece  of  paper  that'll  help 
her  along." 

"Thank  you,  Jerry,"  said  Miss  Lane.  "I  never 
thought  you  had  forgotten,  but  it  goes  to  my  heart 
to  hear  you  speak  such  words." 

"No,  I  never  was  one  to  forget  a  favor,"  replied 
the  man  as  Andy  passed  out  of  hearing  again. 
"That 's  why  I  Ve  stood  by  Andy  in  spite  of  things. 
He  did  me  a  mighty  good  turn  once  when  we  were 
boys." 

"La  me,  Jerry,  what  did  he  ever  do  for  you  that 
he  has  n't  had  full  pay  for  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Strong. 

"You  Ve  heard  me  tell  it,  Peggy.  It  was  above 
the  old  rock  mill-dam  on  Shoal  Creek.  We  were 
swimming  in  water  twenty  feet  deep,  when  I  took 
the  cramps  and  went  under  like  a  chunk  of  lead. 
Andy  heard  me  make  a  strange  noise  and  dived  after 
me  and  towed  me  ashore.  He  rubbed  and  slapped 
me  for  half  an  hour  before  I  was  at  myself  again. 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  97 

He  's  got  a  claim  on  me  I  can't  forget,  because  of 
thinking  of  that  time,  when  he  gets  to  acting  up 
like  he  does  now  and  then.  I  do  n't  believe  he  's 
half  so  unfeeling  as  he  lets  on  sometimes." 

"Well,  I  do  n't  blame  you  for  overlooking  things 
for  such  reasons,  Jerry.  There  's  debts  a  body  can't 
ever  pay  up  in  full.  But  I  do  think  you  Ve  taken  a 
heap  off  of  Andy.  I  did  n't  know  before  how  you 
brought  yourself  to  bear  it,"  said  Miss  Lane. 

"Well,  I  'm  free  to  own  up  that  he  does  say  things 
that  're  a  mite  hard  to  swallow ;  but  I  can  generally 
keep  still,  and  that 's  the  best  when  he 's  riled." 

"Sakes  alive,  it  is  n't  what 's  best,  it 's  what 's 
handiest  that  I  'm  liable  to  grab  at  when  he  sets  his 
tongue  on  me.  It 's  a  sight  handier  for  me  to  give 
him  a  piece  of  my  mind  than  to  keep  my  mouth 
shut,"  declared  Miss  Lane  with  a  laugh,  in  which 
the  others  joined  heartily. 

Andy  approached  again,  pulling  the  mower  after 
him.  "I  'm  done  with  the  cutting,  Jerry.  I  '11  rake 
off  this  afternoon.  I  'm  going  to  the  store  to  get 
some  tobacco.  Do  you  or  Peggy  need  anything?" 

"You  might  get  a  dollar's  worth  of  coffee,''  re- 
plied Mrs.  Strong.  "We  don't  need  anything  else 
that  I  know  of." 

"Do  you  want  anything,  Hilda?"  queried  the 
man,  with  fire  smoldering  in  his  eyes.  "I  might 
run  across  a  little  nigger  for  you  to  adopt,  you  know. 
You'll  soon  be  out  of  a  job  if  yours  is  going  to 
leave." 


98  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  never  asked  you  to  pick  an  adoption  for  me 
yet,  Andy." 

"Lordy,  no.  If  you  had  you  wouldn't  have 
started  out  with  them  Ritchie  brats.  Sammy  was 
the  bench  leggedest  youngster  ever  born,  I  reckon, 
and  he  's  bench  legged  yet.  The  pair  of  them — him 
and  Susy — beat  all  I  ever  set  eyes  on  for  ornery 
looks." 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy,  you  've  forgot  how  they  Ve 
come  out.  They  're  both  good  looking  in  the  main, 
and  good,  honest,  hard-working  people.  I  'm  not 
ashamed  of  either  of  them.  I  take  it  a  b*ody  's  got 
to  look  higher  than  a  man's  legs  to  do  him  justice 
in  this  world.  Sam's  legs  may  be  crooked,  but  his 
his  heart  is  straight  and  always  was." 

"It 's  a  pity  you  was  n't  born  a  man,  Hilda.  You 
might  have  got  to  be  President,  or  a  preacher  any- 
way." 

"It  takes  more  than  gift  of  gab  to  measure  up 
to  what  a  President  ought  to  be,  if  that 's  what  you 
mean.  I  reckon  I  would  have  made  a  mess  of  things 
if  such  as  that  had  come  to  pass." 

"Well,  you  could  n't  have  got  things  in  a  worse 
mess  than  old  Abe  Lincoln  did  when  he  turned  the 
niggers  loose.  I  'm  expecting  a  nigger  President 
next  thing  we  know." 

"I  'm  bound  to  say  that  no  fellow  ever  was  born 
that  could  have  done  better  by  the  Union  than  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  did  in  his  day  and  time,  no  matter  what 
comes  to  pass,"  asserted  Jerry  Payson,  quietly. 

"I  reckon  the  Almighty  made  a  blunder  and  put 
the  wrong  hides  on  you  and  old  Abe  and  Hilda, 


A  MORNING  IN  MAY.  99 

Jerry.  The  lot  of  you  would  have  been  full-blooded 
niggers  if  your  skins  had  been  black,"  retorted  Andy, 
roughly. 

"You  've  no  call  to  talk  that  way,  Andy."  replied 
Jerry  Payson,  sternly.  "I  'm  sorry  we  do  n't  look 
at  things  from  the  same  point  of  view,  but  as  long 
as  we  don't,  what's  the  use  to  nag  one  another?" 

"A  man  had  n't  ought  to  be  damned  for  his  hon- 
est opinions  of  things.  But  the  world  's  against  me, 
no  matter  which  way  I  blow  rny  breath." 

"There  's  such  a  thing  as  a  body's  giving  their 
opinions  before  they  're  asked.  A  man  can  think 
what  he  likes  and  be  peaceable  about  it.  It 's  bound 
to  be  pleasanter  all  round  if  a  body  keeps  the  peace." 

"There  '11  never  be  any  more  good  times  like  we 
had  before  the  war.  Andy  Peters  must  keep  his 
mouth  shut  now,  but  the  country 's  free  for  the  nig- 
gers to  gad  around  in.  O  lordy,  I  reckon  old  Abe  set 
things  that  have  hatched  out  more  than  he  expected." 

"You  've  run  out  of  talk,  Andy.  It  always 
sounds  that  way  when  a  fellow  says  old  times  were 
better  than  we  've  got  right  along.  There  's  always 
good  times  for  a  body  that 's  on  the  lookout  for  them. 
Why,  it 's  a  fine  thing  to  be  living  in  this  day  and 
age.  I  would  n't  swap  my  time  for  any  that 's  past 
or  any  that 's  to  come  when  I  'm  gone  out  of  this 
mortal  world.  It 's  a  fact,  Andy,  Abraham  Lincoln 
did  set  things  that  have  hatched  out  better  than  he 
expected.  Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the 
Stars  and  Stripes !" 

"But  drat  the  niggers!"  growled  Andy,  turn- 
ing away. 


IX. 
A  REVELATION. 

ONE  evening  a  few  days  after  Miss  Lane's  con- 
sultation with  Jerry  Payson  concerning  Robert's 
letter  and  its  import,  Judge  Horine  remarked  to 
his  son : 

"I  received  a  letter  from  Robert  Lane  this  morn- 
ing. He  said  he  had  applied  for  the  principalship 
of  our  schools,  and  asked  for  my  influence.  He  inti- 
mated that  you  had  written  him  of  your  intended 
resignation,  and  had  advised  him  to  apply  for  the 
vacancy." 

"Yes,  that  is  true.  Of  course  I  counted  on  your 
support,  sir." 

"Then  you  counted  on  the  wrong  man." 

"What  have  you  against  Robert?"  asked  Eric, 
in  surprise. 

"A  matter  of  principle  only." 

"Ah,  I  see — a  sort  of  pun,  is  it?" 

"Anything  but  a  pun.  It  is  a  serious  matter.  I 
wish  you  had  spoken  to  me  before  advising  Robert." 

"It  can  not  be  that  you  consider  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding his  birth  a  sufficient  cause  to  debar  him 
from  the  position  ?" 

"No,  not  if  his  blood  were  not  fatally  tainted." 
100 


A  REVELATION.  101 

"What  do  you  mean?  Please  explain.  Robert 
has  been  my  most  intimate  friend  from  earliest  child- 
hood." 

"Yes,  but  I  permitted  it  through  ignorance  of  the 
truth  until  you  were  in  your  teens,  and  then  I  al- 
lowed it  against  my  better  judgment,  believing  that 
your  intimacy  would  gradually  cease  as  your  profes- 
sions occupied  you  more  and  more  each  year.  It 
will  be  a  shock  to  you,  no  doubt,  to  learn  that  Robert 
is  an  octoroon." 

"Father !" 

"It  is  the  truth." 

"Have  you  positive  truth  ?"  asked  Eric,  sickening 
with  the  remembrance  of  Robert's  velvety  dark  eyes, 
olive  skin,  and  wavy  black  hair. 

"I  would  not  make  the  assertion  without  suffi- 
cient proof.  His  mother  is  the  handsome  quadroon 

you  once  saw  at  Captain  Berkley's  at  B .  She 

has  been  Mrs.  Berkley's  housekeeper  for  many  years. 
I  know  nothing  about  Robert's  father  except  that  he 
was  a  white  man — a  Southerner." 

"Who  told  you  the  story  ?  Who  identified  Rob- 
ert as  the  son  of  the  quadroon  ?" 

"The  woman  herself.  She  deserted  her  child 
at  the  door  of  the  poorhouse,  but  soon  regretting 
her  act  went  back  to  recover  him.  Upon  making 
cautious  inquiries  she  found  that  Miss  Lane,  of  Pay- 
son  Bend,  had  already  adopted  him.  She  returned 
to  B ,  and  entered  the  employment  of  the  Berk- 
leys, where  she  heard  my  name  mentioned  in  connec- 
tion with  Payson  Bend  and  wrote  to  me  concerning 


IO2  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Miss  Lane's  character  and  immediate  family.  My 
reply  was  an  eulogy  on  Miss  Lane's  high  repute.  I 
visited  at  Captain  Berkley's  several  times  during  the 
next  few  years,  and  the  woman  always  sought  an 
opportunity  to  make  inquiry  about  Miss  Lane  and 
her  affairs.  I  finally  exhibited  some  curiosity,  but 
she  excused  her  questions  by  saying  that  she  had 
heard  of  the  pathetic  incident  of  Robert's  desertion 
at  the  poorhouse  door  in  his  infancy,  and  was  inter- 
ested in  his  development  under  Miss  Lane's  care. 
Later  I  met  the  woman  here  in  Payson  Bend.  She 
was  walking  along  the  street  with  Robert,  whom 
she  seemed  to  have  approached  as  a  stranger,  seek- 
ing information  of  some  kind.  The  boy  was  politely 
explaining  something  when  I  passed  them,  but  as  I 
met  the  woman's  eyes  she  saw  that  I  recognized  her 
and  was  suspicious.  I  afterwards  met  her  several 
times  under  similar  circumstances  at  intervals  of  a 
year  or  so,  and  upon  the  occasion  of  my  last  visit 
at  Captain  Berkley's,  when  Robert  was  in  his  teens, 
she  confessed  the  secret  of  her  interest  in  him.  I 
agreed  to  keep  silent  unless  there  arose  a  particular 
necessity  for  revealing  the  truth.  The  time  has 
arrived." 

"Does  any  one  in  Payson  Bend  know  or  suspect 
the  truth  ?" 

"I  think  not." 

"Then  why  expose  it?" 

"I  shall  probably  be  compelled  to  do  so  at  this 
crisis." 

"Who  will  compel  you?" 


A  REVELATION.  103 

"The  majority  of  the  school  board  if  the*y  decide 
to  employ  Robert,  as  is  sure  to  be  the  case  when  his 
application  is  considered.  It  is  both  fortunate  and 
unfortunate  that  I  am  a  member  of  the  board.  Sev- 
eral of  the  others  are  Robert's  personal  friends,  and 
he  is  popular  with  all." 

"And  so  if  they  attempt  to  hire  him — " 

"I  shall  fight  the  action  and,  if  necessary,  de- 
clare my  objection.  I  shall  never  permit  one  of 
Negro  blood  to  assume  leadership  or  position  of  any 
kind  within  the  limits  of  Payson  Bend  while  I  have 
power  to  prevent  it.  My  father  was  one  of  the  con- 
structors of  that  prohibitory  town  ordinance.  I  have 
always  indorsed  it,  and  will  never  recede  from  my 
position.  Is  it  possible  that  you  would  be  less  loyal, 
my  son  ?  Would  you  be  willing  to  submit  the  chil- 
dren of  Payson  Bend  to  Negro  rule  ?" 

"Robert  is  not  a  Negro,  sir !" 

"You  know  the  assertion,  'One  drop  of  Negro 
blood  makes  a  Negro.'  I  hold  that  true." 

"I  hold  it  odious,  unjust,  and  untrue !  And  be- 
sides, Robert's  case  is  peculiar  and  not  to  be  com- 
pared with  others.  There  is  no  prejudice  in  the 
minds  of  our  people  against  him.  You  have  said  he 
is  a  favorite.  He  is  worthy  of  the  highest  esteem, 
and  is  the  truest-hearted  fellow  I  ever  knew.  No 
one  is  likely  to  suspect  the  taint  in  his  blood  if  you 
withhold  your  knowledge." 

"Then  would  you  have  me  permit  an  imposition, 
abet  a  degradation,  countenance  a  curse,  in  our  im- 
mediate community  that  is  already  gnawing  at  the 


104  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

root  of* American  strength  and  purity?  Eric,  are 
you  a  weakling  and  a  renegade  from  the  principles 
of  your  fathers  ?" 

"The  premises  from  which  my  grandfathers  rea- 
soned have  practically  lost  their  tenure.  I  am  loyal 
to  the  Constitution  of  my  country ;  true  to  the  right 
and  to  my  friend,  Robert  Lane.  A  principle,  or 
rather  an  ordinance  that  has  survived  its  own  wis- 
dom and  virtue,  is  not  a  lofty  ideal  for  me  to  advo- 
cate. It  would  be  cowardice  for  me  to  pretend  such 
allegiance  in  this  instance.  I  would  not  indorse  the 
indiscriminate  employment  of  the  descendants  from 
Negroes  for  responsible  positions  in  Payson  Bend, 
nor  would  I  invite  the  residence  of  any  known  per- 
son of  such  parentage  to  a  town  so  antagonistic  to 
the  race.  But  in  Robert's  case  there  are  circum- 
stances that  demand  generous  acknowledgment. 
His  standing,  morally  and  socially,  is  above  re- 
proach. He  is  the  adopted  son  of  a  woman  of  un- 
challenged character  and  merit,  and  the  best  homes 
of  our  town  have  always  been  open  to  him.  It  would 
be  a  diabolical  action  to  pronounce  upon  him  a  curse 
that  must  blight  his  prospects  forever.  Do  n't  do  it, 
father." 

"Eric,  you  are  a  man  in  years,  but  your  senti- 
ments and  your  reasoning  would  become  a  school- 
boy. You  do  not  properly  comprehend  the  magni- 
tude and  importance  of  the  Negro  problem.  You 
are  proposing  to  deal  with  Robert's  case  abstractly ; 
but  I  tell  you  it  is  impossible  to  ignore  its  signifi- 
cance as  a  deadly  infringement  upon  the  welfare  of 


A  REVELATION.  105 

your  townspeople,  or  to  separate  it  from  its  vital 
connection  with  the  race  question." 

"I  confess  that  I  do  not  believe  that  Robert's 
case  is  of  any  importance  in  the  race  problem  so 
long-  as  he  himself  and  the  public  remain  ignorant 
of  the  taint  in  his  blood.  This  truly  appears  to  be 
an  instance  of  'Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly 
to  be  wise.'  It  will  be  exaggerating  a  point  of  small 
moment  into  an  immeasurable  wrong  to  proclaim 
a  fact  that  should  remain  secret  for  reasons  of  friend- 
ship and  kindness,  if  nothing  else,  since  no  one  will 
be  materially  wronged  by  the  omission,  and  much 
suffering  will  be  thus  averted.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  Robert  Lane  is  a  white  man,  and  will  re- 
main as  such  if  you  withhold  your  knowledge." 

"I  have  kept  my  lips  sealed  too  long.  My  sin 
is  recoiling  upon  me  in  your  words,  my  son.  I 
should  have  revealed  the  truth  to  you  in  your  more 
impressionable  years.  Your  conception  of  rny  duty 
to  the  public  in  general,  and  to  my  associates  in  par- 
ticular, is  very  narrow.  Do  you  realize  that  as  mat- 
ters now  rest  Robert  is  free  and  liable  to  marry  a 
white  girl  of  unquestioned  parentage  ?  Would  you, 
with  your  present  knowledge,  allow  him  to  proceed 
in  such  action  without  scruple  or  hindrance  ?  Would 
you  stand  by  with  sealed  lips  while  an  unsuspecting 
young  lady  of  your  acquaintance  entered  into  wed- 
lock with  him,  ignorant  of  the  curse  that  might 
sooner  or  later  confront  her  with  the  horrible  truth 
in  the  features  of  her  offspring?  If  you  will  evade 


io6  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  Negro  in  Robert  in  all  other  respects,  you  must 
recognize  it  in  this  possible  phase." 

Eric  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  floor.  He 
was  now  reminded  of  Robert's  last  letter,  which  con- 
tained the  confidence  of  his  recent  betrothal  to  Flos- 
sie Bruce,  the  daughter  of  Colonel  Bruce,  and  one 
of  Payson  Bend's  most  charming  and  lovable  girls. 
Here  indeed  was  an  appalling  complication.  After 
some  meditation,  he  said : 

"I  feel  the  weight  of  your  last  argument,  father, 
and  admit  the  wisdom  of  informing  Robert  of  the 
truth ;  but  the  public  need  not  know  it.  Robert  has 
rigid  ideas  of  honor,  and  will  govern  the  affairs  of 
his  life  by  the  knowledge  he  receives.  You  can  trust 
him  to  act  nobly;  he  is  incapable  of  any  other 
course." 

"I  have  compromised  with  silence  too  long  it 
seems,  since  my  son  has  come  to  find  deceit  more 
commendable  than  honesty  and  more  admirable  than 
justice.  I  regret  that  I  have  lived  to  discover  in 
my  only  child  a  traitor  to  the  principles  I  have  sought 
to  sustain." 

"And  I  regret  our  differences,  sir,  though  I  do 
not  believe  I  am  lacking  so  much  in  the  virtues  you 
disclaim  for  me.  However,  there  need  be  no  serious 
embarrassment  for  you.  I  will  write  to  Robert  and 
ask  him  to  withdraw  his  application  for  reasons  that 
will  be  made  known  to  him  later.  He  will  trust  the 
sincerity  of  my  friendship  until  you  can  impart  your 
information  to  him  in  person." 

"Too  late;  the  question  shall  come  before  the 


A  REVELATION.  107 

board.  I  shall  sound  their  principles  and  determine 
whether  I  stand  alone  as  the  defender  of  our  town 
from  a  fatal  compromise  with  a  deadly  evil.  Yes, 
it  shall  come  to  an  issue." 

"But,  father,  if  Robert  will  withdraw  his  appli- 
cation there  need  be  no  issue.  I  will  write  to  him 
immediately." 

"Too  late ;  the  board  will  meet  in  half  an  hour." 

"Father,  remember  that  Robert  is  an  innocent 
victim.  Spare  him !  You  can  advise  a  delay  in  the 
hiring  of  teachers.  Such  delays  have  frequently 
occurred  in  the  past." 

"Perhaps ;  but  I  shall  test  the  strength  of  my  po- 
sition. The  question  shall  come  to  an  issue.  It  is 
high  time  when  my  own  flesh  and  blood  turns 
against  me!"  declared  the  Judge  wrathfully,  as  he 
left  the  room  and  house  and  stalked  down  the  street 
with  determination  in  every  muscle  of  his  body. 

Mrs.  Horine  had  listened  to  the  conversation 
without  comment,  having  learned  the  value  of  hold- 
ing her  peace  long  years  before.  In  the  foregoing 
controversy,  however,  her  sympathy  had  gone  out  to 
Eric,  but  her  convictions  coincided  with  those  of  the 
judge.  She  was  a  Southerner  by  birth,  and  cher- 
ished bitter  memories  of  the  disaster  that  had  be- 
fallen her  family  through  the  abolishment  of  slavery. 
She  regarded  Negroes  as  the  natural  servants  of  the 
superior  race,  and  nothing  more  or  less  than  intelli- 
gent beasts  of  burden. 

"Can't  you  help  me,  mother?"  asked  Eric,  turn- 
ing his  miserable  face  toward  the  silent  woman. 


io8  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"What  can  I  do  to  avert  the  calamity  father  is  de- 
termined to  bring  upon  Robert  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Eric,  unless  a  telegram  could 
reach  him  in  time  for  him  to  dispatch  the  withdrawal 
of  his  application.  The  board  will  dispose  of  other 
matters  before  they  consider  the  applications,  I  im- 
agine." 

"Good,  mother !  I  '11  send  a  telegram !"  ex- 
claimed the  young  man,  snatching  his  hat  and  rush- 
ing away.  He  passed  his  father  on  the  street  with 
a  cheerful  word,  and  hastened  on.  But  the  judge 
was  a  shrewd  man,  and  suspicioned  his  son's  errand 
even  before  noting  the  direction  taken  by  him. 

Judge  Horine's  hatred  for  Negroes  was  the  out- 
growth of  family  prejudice.  One  of  his  ancestors 
had  been  one  of  the  few  Illinois  slaveholders,  but 
was  a  man  of  chaste  virtue  himself,  and  regarded  the 
amalgamation  of  the  white  and  black  races  a  crime 
against  man  and  God.  Nevertheless  he  had  been  a 
severe  taskmaster  over  those  he  held  in  bondage, 
and  paid  the  penalty  of  supporting  the  vile  system 
of  slavery  in  crime  and  death.  His  youngest  daugh- 
ter, the  darling  of  his  heart,  eloped  with  a  handsome 
young  mulatto,  and  the  enraged  father,  overtaking 
the  pair  crossing  the  Mississippi  in  a  boat,  shot  them 
both  and  sunk  their  bodies  in  the  turbid  river.  He 
then  returned  home,  confided  his  crime  to  his  eldest 
son,  made  his  will,  and  put  a  bullet  through  his  own 
brain.  It  was  generally  believed  that  he  came  to 
his  death  through  the  accidental  discharge  of  a  gun 
in  his  own  hands ;  but  the  fate  of  his  daughter  and 


A  REVELATION.  109 

the  dusky  companion  of  her  flight  was  never  re- 
vealed save  to  the  male  members  of  the  family  and 
their  descendants.  As  directed  by  his  will  the  fam- 
ily sold  off  their  slaves  at  once,  and  never  trafficked 
with  Negroes  again  nor  permitted  favorable  senti- 
ments toward  them  to  be  instilled  into  the  minds  of 
their  children. 

Eric  Horine  sent  a  brief  message  to  Robert  Lane, 
and  remained  at  the  telegraph  office  till  midnight  to 
receive  a  reply,  but  none  came.  He  returned  home 
disheartened.  The  judge  had  retired,  but  Mrs. 
Horine  was  sitting  on  the  porch  awaiting  her  son. 

"Your  father  came  home  in  a  temper,"  she  volun- 
teered after  Eric  had  told  of  his  disappointment. 
"I  asked  if  the  board  had  their  meeting,  and  he 
answered  me  very  harshly,  'It  met  madame,  and  the 
tiger  is  loose !'  he  said." 

"Then  it  is  all  up  with  Robert's  peace  of  mind, 
I  suppose.  He  must  have  been  out  of  Kingly,  or  he 
would  have  responded  to  my  message." 

"Well,  I  would  n't  worry,  Eric.  You  have  done 
all  you  could." 

"I  know,  but  you  see  it  was  at  my  suggestion 
that  Robert  sent  in  his  application.  I  wish  father 
were  less  rabid.  Did  n't  he  say  anything  more  about 
the  meeting  ?" 

"Not  a  word.  He  went  into  the  house  a*id 
slammed  every  door  he  passed  through,  and  finally 
went  up  to  bed.  I  have  been  thinking  of  Hilda  Lane, 
Eric.  What  a  blow  this  will  be  to  her.  Her  highest 
hopes  are  centered  in  Robert." 


no  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Yes,  I  know,  mother,"  replied  Eric,  with  a 
groan.  "If  I  could  only  do  something.  It  is  dis- 
tressing to  be  so  helpless  in  a  matter  so  vital  to  the 
happiness  and  welfare  of  one's  best  friends." 

Judge  Horine  was  morose  at  the  breakfast  table 
next  morning,  and  not  until  he  had  deliberately  dis- 
posed of  two  cups  of  coffee  and  six  well-buttered 
corn  cakes  did  he  mention  the  board  meeting.  Then, 
with  a  keen  glance  at  Eric,  he  announced: 

"We  had  five  applications  for  the  principalship 
last  night." 

"Pretty  fair  competition.    Did  you  hire?" 

"No.    The  vote  for  Robert  was  unanimous." 

"I  expected  as  much." 

"So  did  I ;  but  I  put  a  damper  on  the  action,  and 
a  second  vote  was  a  tie.  Berry  was  away  and  lost 
his  vote." 

"Yes,  sir.  What  was  the  upshot?"  asked  Eric, 
trying  to  conceal  his  impatience. 

"An  order  for  the  printer  to  issue  and  distribute 
handbills  all  over  Payson  Bend  to-day,  calling  a 
meeting  of  the  citizens  at  the  town  hall  Monday  night 
to  debate  the  question  of  Negro  invasion  into  our 
midst.  This  is  Saturday;  the  thing  will  be  in  fine 
ferment  by  Monday  night." 

"No  doubt.  You  are  my  father,  sir ;  it  would  not 
be  prudent  for  me  to  express  myself  concerning  the 
uncalled  for  publicity  you  have  made  of  a  delicate 
matter,"  remarked  Eric,  rising  abruptly  from  the 
table  and  going  out  of  doors  to  pace  up  and  down 
the  path,  disturbed  and  angry.  He  felt  that  it  was 


A  REVELATION.  m 

his  duty  to  apprise  Miss  Lane  of  the  state  of  affairs, 
and  not  leave  her  to  meet  the  shock  of  a  chance  dis- 
covery. The  town  would  soon  be  in  a  hubbub.  He 
decided  to  go  at  once  and  make  a  full  confession  of 
his  own  part  in  the  unhappy  result  of  Robert's  appli- 
cation for  the  highest  position  in  the  Payson  Bend 
schools. 


X. 
A  SHADOWED  DAY. 

Miss  LANE  was  not  at  home  when  Eric  knocked 
on  the  cottage  door,  but  Liberty  said  she  was  ex- 
pecting her  every  moment.  She  had  spent  the  night 
at  her  farmhouse  caring  for  Mrs.  Ritchie,  who 
was  ill. 

"Did  you  want  anything  in  particular,  Eric?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"Very  particular.  I  will  call  again  as  soon  as 
Miss  Lane  returns,"  replied  the  young  man,  turning 
away.  He  had  noticed  Victory  gathering  roses  in 
the  Payson  yard,  and  crossed  the  road  to  have  a  chat 
with  her.  Seeing  him  approach  the  gate  the  girl 
called  out  gayly : 

"What  news  this  morning,  Eric?  Who  is  to  be 
my  superior  in  your  place  next  year  ?" 

"How  do  you  know  you  have  n't  been  left  off 
the  list,  Missy?" 

"O,  I  'm  not  afraid  of  that.  You  see  I  stand  in 
with  the  board  pretty  well." 

"Is  there  any  one  you  do  n't  stand  in  with  pretty 
well?"  asked  Eric,  with  his  admiring  eyes  fixed  on 
the  bright  face  of  the  girl. 

"I  don't  really  know.     But,  seriously  now,  did 
the  board  give  Robert  the  principalship?" 
112 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  113 

The  shadow  in  Eric's  eyes  deepened.  "Let  us  sit 
on  one  of  these  benches,  Victory.  I  have  something 
to  tell  you  about  Robert." 

"O  Eric !"  said  Victory  when  the  story  was  fin- 
ished, "how  my  heart  aches  for  Aunt  Hilda  as  well 
as  for  Robert !" 

"Yes,  it  will  be  a  cruel  blow.  I  am  angry  with 
father  for  launching  the  affair  upon  the  public.  It 
was  not  necessary." 

"But  I  think  your  father's  action  was  right,  what- 
ever the  spirit  of  it." 

"Right?    Surely  you  don't  mean  that,  Victory." 

"Yes,  I  do.  Robert  should  know  the  truth,  and 
so  should  the  public.  He  should  be  prohibited  from 
the  position  he  seeks.  Any  degree  of  Negro  rule 
is  abhorrent  to  contemplate.  I  esteem  Robert,  and 
deplore  this  discovery,  but  much  as  my  sympathy 
is  involved,  my  reason  upholds  the  principle  at  stake 
in  your  father's  action.  Your  own  views  must  have 
changed  in  the  last  few  years  if  you  now  countenance 
the  idea  of  a  Negro  ruler  over  the  children  of  our 
town.  Suppose,  in  conformity  with  our  present 
school  discipline,  an  incorrigible  was  obliged  to 
choose  between  corporal  punishment  and  expulsion. 
To  submit  to  either  condition  at  the  instance  of  one 
of  the  inferior  race  would  be  intolerable.  The  youth 
of  our  schools  would  rise  in  open  rebellion,  and  with 
just  cause.  A  public  benefit  can  not  be  placed  under 
the  control  of  a  Negro  with  justice." 

"Robert  is  not  a  Negro.    He  is  more  white  than 
black." 
8 


ii4  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"  'The  fatal  drop'  is  there." 

"And  do  you  believe  that  a  worthy  man  should  be 
condemned  to  misery  because  of  a  drop  of  blood  in 
his  veins  that  it  would  take  a  hound  of  injustice  to 
scent  ?" 

"No.  But  he  should  be  taught  to  see  the  fitness 
of  things.  Of  course  Robert  has  been  innocent  of 
his  defect,  but  now  he  must  face  the  future  from 
a  new  standpoint.  You  would  not  wish  your  father 
to  assist  in  a  deception  at  the  expense  of  a  just  pro- 
tective measure,  would  you?" 

"I  would  have  him  avoid  needless  cruelty,  since 
it  would  harm  no  one,  but  would  promote  the  happi- 
ness of  many.  I  admit  only  one  necessity  for  reve- 
lation, and  that  to  Robert  alone.  What  is  my  friend- 
ship worth  if  it  wavers  and  withdraws  support  be- 
cause of  a  chance  discovery  that  does  not  in  the  least 
affect  the  nobility  of  my  friend's  character?  I  am 
disappointed,  Victory.  I  did  not  expect  you  to  fail 
Robert  at  such  a  time." 

"Of  what  value  is  principle  if  one  does  n't  stand 
by  it  ?  Principle  comes  before  friendship.  Principle 
to  the  death  of  all  else  is  my  standard!"  declared 
Victory  in  cool,  firm  tones  that  were  in  direct  con- 
trast to  the  man's  fervency  of  voice  and  manner. 

Eric  gazed  at  the  girl,  amazed  at  the  austereness 
he  had  never  recognized  in  her  before.  As  if  she 
were  unfamiliar  in  this  new  attitude  his  glance  lifted 
to  the  blossom  trembling  in  her  crown  of  blue-black 
hair,  and  swept  slowly  downwards  over  her  broad 
white  forehead,  straight  nose,  delicately  chiseled  lips, 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  115 

full  chin,  and  creamy  throat.  Finally  he  fell  to 
watching  how  boldly  the  sunshine  danced  over  her 
sprigged  muslin  frock  and  drank  the  dewdrops  from 
the  petals  of  the  sheaf  of  roses  on  her  lap.  Slightly 
embarrassed  under  her  lover's  gaze,  Victory  fingered 
the  rose-leaves  restlessly,  her  betrothal  ring  glitter- 
ing at  every  move. 

"How  very  dismal  we  are  this  morning,  Eric!" 
said  the  girl  with  a  smile,  when  the  silence  grew 
oppressive.  "I  hope  you  do  n't  think  me  altogether 
harsh  and  cold.  A  penny  for  your  thoughts!" 

"I  was  wondering  what  you  would  have  done  if 
it  had  been  me  instead  of  Robert  in  whom  this  flaw 
had  been  revealed.  Would  you  have  broken  your 
vows  to  me,  and  ceased  to  love  me?  Would  you, 
Victory,  dearest?" 

"Marriage  would  have  been  out  of  the  question, 
of  course;  but  nothing  could  destroy  my  affection 
for  you,  Eric." 

"Nothing?" 

"I  can  not  think  of  anything  now." 

"But  something  might  occur — a  condition,  a  reve- 
lation apart  from  hereditary  taint  that  would  involve 
a  principle  which  you  could  sustain  only  by  parting 
with  me." 

"I  could  give  you  up  for  the  sake  of  sustaining 
a  mighty  principle,  Eric,  even  though  my  love  for 
you  endured  to  the  end  of  my  life,"  replied  the  girl, 
steadily. 

"Victory,"  exclaimed  the  man,  passionately,  "look 
into  my  eyes  and  listen  to  what  I  say !  There  is  noth- 


n6  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

ing  in  the  world  that  I  would  allow  to  part  us.  I 
would  stand  by  you  through  any  disaster  of  fate,  or 
sin,  or  blight  of  body  or  prospect,  so  long  as  you 
loved  me  and  was  true  to  me  !  Do  you  undestand  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  the  girl,  calmly. 
"But  why  do  we  speak  of  improbabilities  ?  There  is 
nothing  between  you  and  me." 

"No.  Forgive  me,  I  am  overwrought.  It  must 
be  Robert's  trouble  weighing  upon  me.  It  is  odd, 
but  for  the  moment  I  felt  the  clutch  of  a  demon  at 
my  heart.  I  am  chilled  as  if  some  unhappy  doom 
were  hovering  over  me." 

"How  foolish!  You  are  indeed  overwrought. 
Cheer  up !  the  sunny  way  is  ours." 

"So  it  seemed  to  Robert  and  Flossie.  Poor  little 
Flossie  Bruce !  How  will  she  meet  this  shock  ?  I 
can  not  believe  she  will  fail  Robert." 

"She  will  have  to  give  him  up.  It  will  almost 
crush  her,  but  her  parents  will  never  consent  to  the 
marriage  now." 

"But  she  loves  Robert  almost  to  idolatory,  and  it 
is  her  nature  to  be  loyal.  Remember  how  she  has 
always  stood  by  Liberty." 

"Yes,  I  know  how  steadfast  she  is,  but  she  could 
not  forsake  her  parents,  as  she  would  have  to  do  to 
marry  Robert  now.  But  see,  there  is  Aunt  Hilda 
getting  out  of  her  buggy.  Why  not  ask  her  to  come 
over  here,  so  you  can  tell  her  and  Uncle  Jerry  the 
news  at  the  same  time.  They  will  want  to  talk  it 
over  together  anyway.  We  are  like  one  family,  you 
know." 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  117 

"I  am  willing,"  replied  Eric. 

"O,  Aunt  Hilda!"  called  Victory,  without  fur- 
ther parley.  "Come  over,  won't  you?  Eric  has 
something  to  tell  you  and  Uncle  Jerry." 

"All  right!"  responded  Miss  Lane,  blithely. 
"I  '11  be  over  as  soon  as  I  have  a  word  with  Liberty." 

By  the  time  Victory  had  wheeled  Jerry  Payson 
out  on  the  veranda  Miss  Lane  was  half  way  up  the 
drive,  her  face  glowing  with  expectancy. 

"I  reckon  Robert's  got  the  school,  hasn't  he, 
Eric?"  she  asked,  joyously. 

"You  've  got  a  hefty  opinion  of  Robert,  have  n't 
you,  Hilda?"  interposed  Jerry  Payson,  teasingly, 
himself  full  of  pleasant  anticipation  of  the  same 
news. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  had,"  replied  the 
woman,  nodding  at  Andy  Peters,  who  shuffled 
around  the  house  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
veranda.  He  usually  managed  to  be  present  when- 
ever she  came  over. 

"Better  take  that  rocking-chair  beside  Hilda, 
Andy,"  suggested  Jerry  Payson,  jovially.  "She 
won't  bite  if  you  behave  yourself.  Victory,  suppose 
you  call  your  grandmother  as  long  as  we  're  having 
a  general  muster." 

"I  'm  sitting  right  inside  the  window,  Jerry," 
said  Mrs.  Strong.  "My  sewing  is  here,  and  I  can 
listen  plenty  good." 

Eric  Horine  glanced  from  one  expectant  face  to 
another  with  increasing  gravity  in  his  own.  Victory 
busied  herself  with  a  bit  of  Battenburg  lace.  Andy 


u8  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

sat,  with  bowed  head  and  alert  ears,  packing  the 
bowl  of  his  pipe  with  tobacco.  Hilda  Lane  was  rock- 
ing and  exchanging  smiles  with  Jerry  Payson.  The 
birds  were  singing  their  gayest  in  the  trees  all  about, 
and  a  company  of  bees  were  humming  happily  as 
they  drew  the  nectar  from  the  roses  at  the  end  of  the 
veranda  and  the  syringa  beyond. 

"We  're  all  waiting  for  the  spirit  to  move  you, 
Eric,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  wondering  at  the  young 
man's  hesitancy. 

"Maybe  it  is  n't  about  Robert,  after  all.  Is  it, 
Eric  ?"  asked  Miss  Lane,  the  eagerness  dying  out  of 
her  eyes. 

"Yes,  it  is  about  Robert,"  replied  Eric,  leaving 
his  chair  to  pace  back  and  forth  in  front  of  the 
veranda.  "It  is  about  Robert,  but  it  is  n't  pleasant 
news,  and  I  hardly  know  how  to  begin." 

"Well,  do  n't  be  afraid  to  tell  it,  Eric.  I  reckon 
the  board  did  n't  give  him  the  school,  or  else — sakes 
alive,  Eric,  he  is  n't  sick  or  hurt  in  a  train  wreck, 
is  he?"  demanded  the  woman,  with  fading  color. 

"No,  he  is  well  so  far  as  I  know,  and  the  prin- 
cipal has  n't  been  chosen  yet.  There  was  a  tie." 

"O,  is  that  all  ?  I  was  scared  for  a  minute.  If 
Robert  is  well,  the  rest  do  n't  matter  much.  I  got  a 
letter  from  him  yesterday,  and  he  said  he  had  an 
offer  from  another  place  at  better  wages  than  they 
pay  here,  and  the  Kingly  board  want  him  back  again, 
too.  So  it  is  n't  any  killing  matter  if  he  do  n't  get 
this  school,  but  I  did  n't  think  but  what  he  'd  get  a 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  119 

full  vote  here.  What  have  any  of  the  board  got 
against  him  ?" 

"I  '11  have  to  begin  at  the  first  of  my  story,  Miss 
Lane.  Did  you  ever  discover  Robert's  parentage?" 

"No.    Has  anybody  ?"  asked  the  woman,  quickly. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  don't  beat  about  the  bush,  Eric.  Tell 
what  you  know.  I  always  had  it  in  my  mind  that 
Robert  did  n't  come  from  common  stock.  Who  are 
his  folks,  and  where  are  they  ?" 

When  once  started  Eric  soon  reached  the  end 
of  his  story.  Miss  Lane  did  not  speak  during  the 
recital,  but  her  face  took  on  an  ashen  hue,  and  in- 
tense suffering  darkened  her  eyes  as  the  truth  de- 
veloped. The  silence  following  the  tale  was  broken 
by  Mrs.  Strong,  who  suddenly  gave  way  to  moans 
and  sobs  and  rocked  herself  back  and  forth  deso- 
lately. 

"Why,  what 's  come  to  you,  Peggy  ?"  asked  Jerry 
Payson,  alarmed  at  a  display  of  emotion  so  unusual 
in  his  sister. 

"La  me,  Jerry,  it 's  the  awful  troubles  that  're 
always  coming  to  folks  in  this  world!"  cried  the 
woman,  leaving  her  chair  by  the  window  and  going 
upstairs  to  her  own  room. 

"It  is  n't  natural  for  Peggy  to  take  things  so 
hard,"  remarked  Jerry  Payson,  uneasily.  "I  'm 
afraid  she  is  feeling  worse  than  common  this  morn- 
ing." 

"Peggy  takes  spells  without  much  reason  some- 


120  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

times,"  commented  Andy ;  "but  I  suppose  she 's 
touched  now  at  the  judgment  that's  come  on  Hilda 
for  acting  so  high  and  mighty  about  keeping  Liberty 
in  spite  of  Payson  Bend  folks.  It 's  their  turn  to  get 
even  with  her  now." 

"That'll  do  now,  Andy!"  said  Jerry  Payson, 
sternly. 

"Maybe  it  '11  do  for  you,  but  I  'm  not  done  yet. 
I  reckon  Timothy  Lane  would  get  right  up  out  of 
his  grave  and  stomp  round  here  like  the  old  Harry 
if  he  knew  a  nigger  was  going  by  the  name  of  Lane 
the  same  as  if  he  belonged  to  the  family." 

"You  'd  best  shut  up  now,  Andy.  Hilda  's  got 
enough  to  bear  up  under,  without  you  nagging  at 
her,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  more  gently  than  he  had 
spoken  before.  He  was  watching  the  stricken 
woman,  longing  to  comfort  her. 

"Do  n't  worry  about  me,  Jerry,"  said  Miss  Lane, 
quietly.  "If  it  does  Andy  any  good  to  spurt  off, 
why  let  him.  It  do  n't  pester  me  any  more  than  the 
crowing  of  that  bantam  rooster  over  yonder  just 
now.  I  've  got  bigger  things  than  his  rattle  on  my 
mind.  It  is  n't  me  that 's  got  the  heft  of  this  trouble 
to  bear — it 's  Robert.  I  love  him  just  the  same  as 
ever,  and  I  take  it  he  's  a  credit  to  the  name  of  Lane  ; 
but  there 's  heaps  of  narrow-minded  folks  that  '11 
stand  ready  to  fling  his  bit  of  Negro  blood  in  his  face 
at  every  turn  to  hinder  him  from  what  he  set  out 
to  be."' 

"It  isn't  the  narrow-minded  folks  that're  going 
to  count  in  the  long  run,  Hilda.  Robert  will  come 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  121 

out  ahead  of  the  mob  yet !"  declared  Jerry  -Payson, 
encouragingly. 

"I  've  noticed  that  narrow-minded  folks  bob 
round  and  take  up  more  room  than  broad-minded 
ones,  Jerry,  and  they  've  got  tongues  that  run  faster, 
too.  Big  things  are  n't  so  frisky  and  tormenting  as 
little  ones,  I  take  it.  But  sakes  alive,  what  am  I 
grumbling  for  ?  God  's  got  the  swing  of  this  mess, 
and  He  '11  fetch  things  out  the  best  way  without  any 
of  my  meddling.  And  in  spite  of  my  feeling  for 
Robert,  I  do  n't  know  as  I  'd  feel  free  to  take  this 
cup  of  sorrow  out  of  his  hands  if  I  could.  Maybe 
it 's  full  of  some  sort  of  bitters  that  '11  turn  to  sweet- 
ness by  and  by  when  he  gets  past  the  first  bad  taste. 
He  won't  sit  down  and  whine.  He  '11  show  the  stuff 
he  's  made  of ;  but  if  I  could  sort  of  mother  him 
through  the  worst  hurt  of  it,  like  I  did  his  troubles 
when  he  was  little,  I  'd  feel  calmer." 

"I  '11  stand  by  him,"  said  Eric  Horine,  sympa- 
thetically. 

"And  me  too,  Hilda.  You  know  that,"  affirmed 
Jerry  Payson. 

"You  need  n't  look  to  me  to  stand  by  your  nig- 
gers, Hilda.  It 's  against  my  nature,"  observed 
Andy,  spitefully. 

"Do  n't  you  worry,  Andy.  I  'm  not  likely  to  look 
to  the  wrong  folks.  But  you  need  n't  call  Robert  a 
nigger.  There  's  nothing  black  or  mean  about  him. 
A  real  nigger  is  a  slave  of  some  sort,  but  it  don't 
mean  a  black-skinned  man  any  more  than  a  white 
man." 


122  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  reckon  the  Constitution  of  our  country  means 
black  niggers  when  it  talks  about  slaves !" 

"There  's  no  such  words  as  slave  and  nigger  in 
the  whole  Constitution.  You  'd  best  study  up  a  bit, 
Andy.  A  slave  is  a  body  that 's  in  bondage  of  some 
sort.  The  Negroes  were  slaves  before  they  were  set 
free,  and  there  's  slaves  to  drink  and  other  sorts  of 
meanness,  and  kinds  of  slaves  chained  heart  and 
soul  to  the  shadows  that  have  grown  round  their 
minds  like  prison  walls  too  thick  to  let  the  sun  get 
through.  Maybe  you  know  one  of  the  last  sort, 
Andy."  Miss  Lane  had  spoken  sadly,  and  Andy 
replied  gloomily : 

"If  I  do,  Hilda,  it 's  because  the  world  has  al- 
ways been  against  me." 

"You  've  been  against  the  world  and  yourself  in 
the  bargain,  Andy.  You  've  kept  your  mind  fixed 
on  Andy  Peters  and  the  Negro  that  stole  your  hair 
watchchain  till  you  can't  see  anything  else  in  the 
whole  world.  I  take  it  the  thoughts  that  get  before 
the  windows  of  a  body's  mind  are  the  biggest  things 
in  sight." 

"That's  a  fine  point,  Miss  Lane — a  fine  point!" 
asserted  Eric  Horine,  thoughtfully. 

"That  it  is,"  agreed  Jerry  Payson,  catching  up  a 
fold  of  his  flag  and  drawing  it  across  his  maimed 
body.  "This  is  the  biggest  thing  in  my  sight,  I 
reckon.  Hooray  for  the  Stars  and  Stripes !" 

"You  forgot  old  Abe,  Jerry,"  commented  Andy, 
grimly.  "But  drat  the  niggers  all  the  same!" 

"No,  I  did  n't  forget  him,  Andy.    He  's  joined  to 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  123 

the  flag  of  the  Union  forever.  I  couldn't  forget 
him — I  've  had  him  in  mind  most  of  my  life.  Least- 
ways, I  was  n't  but  a  stripling  of  nineteen  when  I 
went  across  the  country  in  a  wagon  with  father  and 
Timothy  Lane  and  old  Jim  Watson  to  hear  Abraham 
Lincoln's  big  speech  at  Springfield  in  June  of  '58, 
and  he  's  been  the  biggest  man  before  my  mind  ever 
since.  All  the  way  home  father  and  the  others 
argued  about  the  main  points  of  the  speech.  Old 
Jim  Watson  could  n't  get  beyond  the  first  point, 
where  Abraham  said  that  he  did  n't  believe  the  Gov- 
ernment could  stay  half  slave  and  half  free.  Jim 
said  Abe  did  n't  know  much,  because  any  fool  could 
see  that  half  and  half  was  the  only  fair  way  of  run- 
ning things,  and  it  was  n't  reasonable  for  one  half 
to  try  to  make  the  other  half  knuckle  down  to  their 
way  of  doing.  But  father  stuck  up  for  Abraham's 
way  of  thinking,  and  said  Jim  would  live  to  see  the 
whole  country  free  or  slave.  Jim  did  live  to  see  it 
free,  but  he  died  kicking  about  it.  He  said  the  coun- 
try would  have  a  big  bust  up  some  fine  day  to  pay 
for  setting  the  niggers  free,  and  then  there  'd  be 
kingdom  come  with  a  nigger  king  riding  in  a  gold 
chariot  drawn  by  white  men,  and  all  such  stuff  as 
that.  But  every  word  of  that  Springfield  speech  was 
great  to  me,  and  when  Abraham  Lincoln  was  put  up 
for  President  the  year  I  came  of  age,  he  got  my 
first  vote.  I  mind  yet  how  I  yelled  and  yelled,  and 
could  n't  get  done  when  the  news  came  that  he  'd 
come  out  ahead.  Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln!" 


124  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"You  forgot  the  Stars  and  Stripes  this  time, 
Jerry,"  said  Andy,  ironically.  "But  drat  the  nig- 
gers anyhow !" 

"Well,  I  must  be  getting  home,"  said  Miss  Lane, 
rising.  "I  told  Liberty  I  'd  be  back  as  soon  as  I 
heard  the  news  about  Robert.  It  was  n't  the  sort  I 
expected ;  but  I  'm  glad  you  told  me,  such  as  it  is, 
Eric.  I  'm  looking  for  Robert  to  come  home  every 
train  now.  His  school  let  out  a  few  days  ago,  but 
he  'lowed  to  stop  at  St.  Louis  to  see  Flossie.  She  's 
there  on  a  visit,  you  know." 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Aunt 
Hilda  ?"  asked  Victory,  as  the  woman  started  down 
the  driveway  looking  worn  and  weary. 

"No,  not  for  me,  pettie.  But  I  '11  be  obliged  if 
you  '11  stand  by  Robert  and  help  to  cheer  him  up, 
so  he  won't  feel  like  his  best  friends  have  turned 
against  him.  That 's  all  you  can  do  for  me." 

Victory  bent  over  her  work  in  silence,  and  only 
Eric,  who  was  watching  her  closely,  noted  the  quiver 
of  her  scarlet  lips. 

In  a  short  time  the  veranda  was  deserted  of  all 
but  Jerry  Payson,  who  sat  with  closed  eyes  singing 
'Just  Before  the  Battle'  very  softly,  and  Andy  Peters, 
who  was  huddled  on  the  end  of  the  veranda,  smok- 
ing and  scowling. 

In  the  meantime  the  atmosphere  of  Payson  Bend 
was  beginning  to  thrill  with  excitement.  All  along 
Stage  Street  people  were  gathered  in  groups  reading 


A  SHADOWED  DAY.  125 

and  discussing  the   scare-head   handbills  that   had 
been  scattered  broadcast  through  the  town: 

"SCHOOL  BOARD  TIES! 

"SHALL  PAYSON  BEND  EMPLOY  A  NEGRO 
PRINCIPAL  ? 

"Let  every  citizen  of  Payson  Bend  attend  the 
call  meeting  at  the  town  hall,  Monday  night,  June  2d, 
to  consider  this  important  question!" 


XL 
AN  EPISODE. 

THE  next  day  was  Sabbath,  but  that  did  not  pre- 
vent the  people  of  Payson  Bend  from  thinking  of 
secular  affairs.  The  members  of  the  school  board 
had  agreed  among  themselves  to  withhold  the  name 
of  the  unfortunate  applicant  until  Monday  night, 
and  believed  that  only  themselves,  the  Horines,  Pay- 
sons,  and  Miss  Lane  were  aware  of  the  truth. 

The  mystery  did  not  lessen  public  interest,  how- 
ever, and  although  the  churches  were  well  filled  at 
morning  services,  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  several 
congregations  received  as  much  spiritual  benefit  from 
the  messages  given  by  their  pastors  as  usual. 

Miss  Lane  was  present  at  her  place  of  worship, 
and  Liberty,  too,  occupied  the  chair  in  the  rear  of  the 
auditorium  reserved  for  her  use.  This  privilege  had 
been  secured  for  her  with  great  difficulty  by  a  pastor 
long  since  removed  from  the  town,  and  never  under 
any  circumstances  had  the  girl  been  permitted  to 
sit  in  a  pew.  Jerry  Payson  and  Victory  Radcliffe 
were  at  Church  also ;  but  Andy  Peters,  after  wheel- 
ing his  charge  to  his  favorite  place  in  the  aisle,  had 
returned  home  to  sit  out  the  hour  of  service  on  the 
pleasant  veranda,  smoking  and  brooding. 
126 


AN  EPISODE.  127 

As  before  described,  the  first  house  east  of  the 
Payson  place  was  the  home  of  Miss  Betty  Bigelow, 
a  spinster  well  along  in  years,  who,  since  the  death 
of  her  aged  mother  had  lived  in  solitary  state.  She 
spent  most  of  her  time  in  making  patchwork  quilts, 
and  was  still  a  candidate  for  matrimony.  She  had 
shown  Andy  Peters  marked  attention  for  years,  but 
seemed  to  make  no  progress  in  his  affections.  True, 
he  ate  the  choice  fruits  which  she  handed  over  the 
fence  to  him  as  he  passed,  and  reluctantly  accepted 
the  bouquets  she  pressed  upon  him  with  the  ex- 
pressed hope  that  he  would  carry  them  to  his  room 
and  remember  the  giver ;  but  these  •  he  invariably 
tossed  on  the  refuse  pile  in  the  barnyard  with  a 
muttered  "Plague  on  Betty  Bigelow,  anyhow!" 

On  the  Sabbath  morning  in  review  Andy  was 
particularly  irritable.  Eric  Horine's  revelation  and 
the  conversation  following  it  had  stirred  up  old 
grievances,  and  he  had  passed  a  restless  night.  Fur- 
thermore, Nabob,  the  newly-broken  colt  which  Jerry 
Payson  had  purchased  for  a  carriage  horse,  had 
broken  his  halter  at  daybreak  and,  escaping  from 
the  stable,  had  nearly  ruined  the  kitchen  garden  of 
finely  growing  vegetables.  The  violent  exercise  nec- 
essary to  capture  the  unruly  animal  had  been  a  severe 
tax  upon  Andy,  and  nervous  and  angry  he  had  re- 
sponded to  the  breakfast  call  only  accidentally  to 
knock  over  the  cream  pitcher,  and  in  a  futile  attempt 
to  right  it  swept  his  coffee  cup  from  the  table,  break- 
ing the  china  and  scalding  his  rheumatic  knee  with 
the  hot  liquid.  Later  he  had  cut  his  chin  while 


128  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

shaving,  and  so  finally  got  into  his  Sunday  clothes 
in  anything  but  a  Sunday  mood. 

After  these  trying  experiences  it  may  be  im- 
agined that  the  time  was  not  favorable  for  further 
annoyance;  but  Miss  Betty  Bigelow  was  not  aware 
of  it.  Quite  innocent  of  wrong-doing,  she  ran  across 
the  side  street,  calling  loudly: 

"O,  Mr.  Peters!    Andy!" 

"Lordy,  I  'm  not  deaf !  What  do  you  want  ?" 
he  growled. 

"Why,  I  want  you  to  come  over  to  my  house  and 
see  what 's  in  my  cellar.  I  'm  nearly  scared  out  of 
my  wits !" 

"I  did  n't  know  you  had  any.     In  your  cellar  ?" 

"Yes.  It  sounded  like  a  pistol  went  off  first,  and 
then  a  shotgun.  I  'm  afraid  a  man  or  a  varmint  is 
trying  to  blow  the  house  up.  That 's  what  comes  of 
a  woman  living  all  soul  alone.  There,  I  heard  it 
again !  I  wish  you  'd  hurry." 

"Well,  if  you  think  it 's  a  man  you  'd  best  run 
and  lock  the  cellar  door  so  he  can't  get  away ;  you  've 
been  trying  to  get  one  long  enough,"  muttered  Andy, 
getting  up  slowly  and  moving  in  the  direction  of 
Miss  Betty's  house  as  deliberately  as  possible. 

"There  's  the  door  that  goes  down  into  the  cellar, 
and  here  's  the  broom  and  a  poker,  Andy,"  whis- 
pered the  woman,  indicating  a  door  opening  from  the 
pantry. 

Andy  opened  the  door  and  looked  down  a  narrow 
flight  of  stairs.  "I  don't  hear  anything,"  he  said, 
after  listening  a  moment.  "I  reckon  it's  nothing 


AN  EPISODE;.  129 

more  than  a  snake  that 's  crawled  through  the  hole 
in  the  screen  of  the  cellar  window.  I  saw  a  hole  as 
I  came  past." 

"A  snake  ?  Why,  you  '11  scare  me  into  fits,  Andy ! 
I  'm  worse  afraid  of  snakes  than  men." 

"Shouldn't  wonder;  but  you're  getting  old 
enough  to  have  a  mite  of  sense.  Give  me  that  poker. 
I  reckon  I  've  got  to  go  down,  in  spite  of  my  lame 
knee." 

The  cellar  was  well  lighted.  Neither  "man  nor 
varmint"  was  visible;  but  a  vile  odor  filled  the  air. 

"Well,  I  '11  be  sizzled !"  exclaimed  Andy,  dis- 
gustedly, when  he  had  looked  about.  "Say,  Betty, 
what  sort  of  stuff  have  you  got  in  these  tin  cans?" 

"What  tin  cans?"  inquired  Betty  from  the  head 
of  the  stairs. 

"Why,  these  on  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
cellar !" 

"O,  let  me  see !  I  guess  they  're  peas.  Yes,  I 
know  they  are !" 

"Well,  the  pesky  things  have  spoilt.  Four  cans 
have  busted  open,  and  there  's  peas  stuck  all  over 
the  joists  and  planks  over  head,  and  everywhere 
else.  It  smells  worse  than  rotten  eggs  down  here. 
You  'd  best  open  up  the  outside  door  and  let  the 
smell  out." 

"Land  o'  mercy,  after  all  the  trouble  I  had  shell- 
ing them  peas !" 

"Well,  I  'm  not  going  to  stand  here  in  this  mess ! 
Open  the  outside  door  and  I  '11  take  these  other  two 
9 


130  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

cans  out  in  the  yard  before  they  bust,  too.  They  're 
sizzling  mightily  now." 

But  when  Miss  Betty  was  opening  the  outside 
door  she  heard  two  loud  reports  and  immediately  en- 
countered a  spectacle  of  fury  that  almost  took  her 
breath.  Andy  had  evidently  started  with  the  two 
cans,  but  his  first  movements  had  precipitated  the 
explosion  of  both,  and  his  face,  hat,  and  Sunday 
clothes  had  received  the  full  charge  of  fermenting 
peas.  Stifled  with  the  sickening  odor,  Miss  Betty 
gave  one  wild  glance  at  the  furious  man  whose  face 
was  dripping  with  vile  liquid  and  from  whose  hair, 
eyebrows,  and  beard  numerous  flattened  peas  were 
dropping,  and  fled  from  the  scene.  She  heard 
Andy's  curses  following  her  as  she  dashed  across  the 
street  and  into  Miss  Lane's  gate,  and,  running  on, 
cast  herself  down  on  the  back  porch  of  the  cottage 
in  a  panic  of  fear.  Miss  Lane  and  Liberty  discov- 
ered her  when  they  returned  from  Church. 

"Sakes  alive,  Betty!  What  is  the  matter? 
You  're  as  white  as  chalk !"  exclaimed  Miss  Lane. 

"It 's  them  peas,  Hilda !  They  've  busted  and 
about  killed  Andy  Peters  !  My,  O  my !  I  've  got 
more  trouble  than  I  can  live  through !"  wailed  the 
woman,  distractedly. 

Convulsed  with  laughter,  Liberty  hurried  up 
stairs  to  change  her  dress ;  but  Miss  Lane  quietly 
took  off  her  bonnet  and  gloves,  and  then  drew  Miss 
Betty  into  the  sitting-room. 

"There  now,  Betty,"  she  said,  gently,  "you  sit  in 
the  rocking-chair  till  you  get  calmed  down.  I  reckon 


AN  EPISODE.  131 

Andy  was  n't  hurt  much.  Liberty  and  me  have  got 
a  cold  roasted  chicken  and  a  cherry  pie  for  dinner. 
I  '11  start  the  fire  to  boil  water  for  coffee  now.  I 
want  you  to  stay  and  eat  with  us.  We  heard  a  fine 
sermon  this  morning.  I  '11  be  proud  when  Robert — " 

Miss  Lane  paused  suddenly  at  the  remembrance 
of  Eric's  story,  but  Miss  Betty  was  too  much  en- 
grossed with  her  own  troubles  to  notice  the  broken 
sentence.  Unpleasant  subjects  were  ignored  until 
dinner  was  over.  Then  Miss  Betty  declared : 

"I  can't  rest  another  minute,  Hilda.  I  '11  have 
to  go  home  and  see  to  things,  but  I  want  you  to  go 
with  me.  I  'm  afraid  Andy  's  hid  in  the  cellar  or 
under  the  bed  to  scare  me.  I  do  n't  suppose  I  '11 
sleep  a  wink  to-night." 

"I  '11  go  with  you,  Betty ;  but  you  need  n't  be 
afraid  of  Andy.  You  might  as  well  tell  me  all  about 
what  happened  now.  I  did  n't  get  the  gist  of  the 
story,  you  know.  You  was  n't  fit  to  tell  it  when  I 
came  home  and  found  you  here." 

Miss  Betty  related  the  facts  of  the  occurrence 
solemnly,  and  then  began  to  weep. 

"I  would  n't  take  on  so,  Betty.  I  can  judge  how 
you  feel  about  Andy's  clothes  getting  messed  up 
and  his  feelings  riled ;  but  it  is  n't  any  killing  matter. 
He  '11  get  over  it." 

"But  he  '11  never  forgive  me,  and  I  Ve  always 
thought  a  heap  of  Andy.  There  's  other  things  bear- 
ing down  on  me,  too.  I  had  an  awful  disappoint- 
ment yesterday.  You  know  I  Ve  had  hopes  lately 
of  getting  a  chance  to  use  the  forty  quilts  I  Ve  got 


132  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

pieced  and  quilted,  and  the  piles  of  sheets  and  pillow- 
cases and  towels  and  the  like  that  I  've  made  and 
laid  by  for  my  wedding  dower.  I  told  you  about 
Lem  Hall  coming  to  see  me  three  Sundays  hand 
running,  did  n't  I  ?  Well,  he  came  again  yesterday 
and  asked  me  square  out  to  marry  him.  I  was  struck 
all  of  a  heap." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  sort  of  looking  for  it, 
by  the  way  you  talked  the  other  day,  Betty." 

"I  was,  but  not  the  way  it  came.  It  was  n't  what 
I  was  looking  for.  I  told  him  I  did  n't  want  a  hus- 
band bad  enough  to  take  him,  and  he  up  and  dusted 
out  of  the  house  as  mad  as  a  hornet." 

"Sakes  alive,  Betty,  you  talked  like  you  'd  be 
glad  to  get  him  last  week.  What 's  wrong  now  ?" 

"Well,  Lem 's  lived  to  get  cold-hearted.  He 
was  sitting  in  a  chair  across  the  room  from  me  when 
he  asked  me  to  have  him.  He  said:  'Well,  Betty, 
I  'm  on  the  hunt  of  a  wife,  and  I  suppose  you  're 
on  the  lookout  for  a  husband.  Suppose  we  get  mar- 
ried. I  've  got  two  good  farms,  and  my  children  are 
all  married  but  two,  and  they  're  spoken  for.  I  'm 
getting  seventy-five  yards  of  nice  rag  carpet  woven, 
and  I  'm  willing  to  buy  a  new-fangled  range  for  the 
kitchen,  and  a  few  odds  and  ends  of  furniture  where 
it 's  needed  to  slick  up  the  house.  What  do  you  say  ? 
Shall  we  give  the  preacher  a  job  soon?'  Think  of 
that,  Hilda.  A  man  asking  a  woman  to  marry  him 
as  calm  and  business-like  as  if  he  was  making  a 
bargain  for  a  farm  or  a  cow.  Not  a  word  of  love 


AN  EPISODE.  133 

nor  a  move  to  get  hold  of  my  hand  nor  anything. 
I  never  thought  things  would  be  that  way." 

"I  reckon  Lem  meant  well,  Betty.  Maybe  he 
thought  you  'd  got  past  the  time  for  love-making. 
I  'm  reasonably  sure  he  did  'nt  mean  any  harm." 

"No ;  but  it  riled  me  to  have  him  act  so  cold.  His 
first  wife,  Sally  Granger,  told  me  that  Lem  was  n't 
content  to  sit  still  when  he  was  courting  her  unless 
he  could  hold  her  hand  and  tell  her  how  much  he 
loved  her  about  every  five  minutes.  And  after  Sally 
died  he  courted  Hester  Cook  the  same  way.  Hester 
told  me  herself  that  she  would  n't  have  married  him 
so  quick  after  Sally  died  if  he  had  n't  acted  so  love- 
sick she  had  to  marry  him  to  get  shut  of  his  love- 
making.  I  'm  just  as  good  as  Sally  or  Hester  either 
one.  It 's  love  I  hanker  for,  and  if  I  can't  get  that 
along  with  a  husband  I  '11  stay  single  the  rest  of  my 
days.  Lem  's  had  his  share  of  love-making,  maybe, 
but  I  have  n't.  And  it  is  n't  as  if  he  did  n't  know 
how,  or  was  backward.  I  mind  what  Sally  and 
Hester  both  told  me  to  this  day." 

"Well,  maybe  Lem  wanted  to  wait  till  he  was 
sure  of  you  before  he  acted  too  loving.  I  believe 
he  meant  well ;  but  you  are  n't  bad  off  as  you  are, 
Betty.  You  're  plenty  able  to  take  a  little  orphan 
baby  to  raise,  and  you  'd  get  love  that  way.  It 's 
mighty  pleasant  to  mother  a  little  helpless  thing  that 
looks  to  you  for  all  it  needs  in  this  world  for  a  few 
years." 

"I  don't  know,  Hilda.     It  would  scare  me  to 


134  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

have  a  baby  on  my  hands  to  do  for,  and  it  might 
stand  in  the  way  of  my  chances  to  marry.  I  've  got 
so  many  things  made  and  laid  by,  you  know.  I  'd 
hate  to  spoil  my  chances." 

"Well,  I  take  it  a  body  ought  to  be  content  with 
the  sort  of  love  that 's  to  be  got  for  the  asking,  if 
the  other  sort  can't  be  had.  A  body  forgets  their  dis- 
appointments and  sorrows  when  they  set  themselves 
to  making  happiness  for  the  helpless.  And  I  take 
it  there  's  more  pleasure  in  doing  things  in  season — 
making  things  that  are  needed  as  the  days  go  by — 
than  in  making  things  to  pile  up  for  a  time  that  may 
never  come  to  pass.  A  body  gets  starved  down  to 
misery  when  they  sit  waiting  for  particular  things 
to  come  to  them.  Time  moves  along  slicker  when  a 
body  is  getting  pay  for  the  work  of  their  hands  as 
they  go  along.  I  Ve  had  full  pay  and  more  watching 
my  adoptions  grow  up  comfortable  and  happy  be- 
cause of  what  I  was  doing  for  them.  You  'd  find 
it  pleasant  to  mother  a  baby,  Betty,  and  feel  its  heft 
against  your  bosom  and  its  little  hands  in  the  jam 
of  your  neck.  And  just  to  see  it  smile  back  when 
you  smile,  or  look  frightened  when  you  scowl — sakes 
alive,  it  comes  home  to  a  body  then  that  the  milk  of 
human  kindness  was  n't  put  in  a  body's  bosom  to 
dry  up." 

"I  'd  be  'most  afraid  to  try  it,  Hilda ;  but  I  '11 
think  about  it.  I  guess  I  '11  have  to  go  home  now. 
I  'm  uneasy  about  things.  My,  but  Andy  was  the 
worst  sight  I  ever  laid  eyes  on,  with  them  peas  splat- 
tered all  over  him." 


AN  EPISODE.  135 

The  two  women  went  over  to  Miss  Betty's  house, 
but  failed  to  find  any  sign  of  Andy  Peters,  After 
chatting  awhile  Miss  Lane  was  starting  home  when 
Jerry  Payson,  who  was  sitting  on  his  veranda,  called 
to  her : 

"Come  over  a  bit,  won't  you,  Hilda  ?" 

Miss  Lane  complied  with  the  request  reluctantly. 
She  was  mind-weary,  and  had  thought  to  have  a 
quiet  hour  with  Liberty;  furthermore  she  did  not 
care  to  encounter  Andy  in  the  mood  she  feared  he 
was  in ;  but  he  was  not  visible.  And  besides  all  else 
it  was  never  easy  for  Hilda  Lane  to  refuse  a  request 
made  by  Jerry  Payson. 

"I  reckon  you  didn't  feel  like  coming,  Hilda," 
said  the  man,  having  noticed  her  hesitancy.  "You 
do  need  rest,  I  know.  You  've  been  sitting  up  with 
Sam's  wife  too  much,  and  now  this  worry  about 
Robert  is  weighing  down  on  you.  You  '11  be  down 
sick  yourself  next  thing." 

"I  'm  not  like  to  overdo  myself,  Jerry.  .  Where 
are  all  the  folks  ?  Peggy  did  n't  get  out  to  Church, 
I  noticed." 

"No,  Peggy  is  n't  very  chipper  to-day.  She  's 
upstairs  lying  down  now.  Victory  's  out  riding  with 
Eric,  and  Ellen  went  to  see  her  sister.  I  haven't 
seen  Andy  since  he  wheeled  me  down  to  Church. 
He  did  n't  come  back  to  get  me,  but  Eric  wheeled 
me  home.  I  reckon  Andy  's  round  the  place ;  but 
I  'm  a  mite  uneasy.  Ellen  says  he  's  been  acting 
mighty  strange.  She  saw  him  sitting  on  the  veranda 
after  he  got  back  from  the  church  smoking  as  calm 


136  HiivDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

as  a  summer  day,  and  the  next  thing  she  saw  of  him 
he  was  running  to  the  stable  lickity  split  and  swear- 
ing like  all  possessed.  She  thought  Nabob  had  got 
out  again,  but  he  hadn't,  and  directly  Andy  came 
out  of  the  stable  in  the  old  blue  jumper  and  overalls 
he  keeps  out  there  to  do  the  chores  in.  Ellen  called 
him  to  dinner  and  so  did  Peggy ;  but  he  did  n't  come, 
and  I  told  them  not  to  pester  him  any  more,  or  it 
might  rile  him  if  he  was  n't  feeling  well.  He  had  to 
run  after  Nabob  till  he  was  worn  out  this  morning, 
and  I  reckon  it  set  his  knee  to  hurting." 

The  words  were  barely  out  of  Jerry  Payson's 
mouth  when  Andy,  true  to  his  habit,  appeared 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  and  took  up  his 
favorite  position  on  the  end  of  the  veranda. 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy,  Jerry  was  just  fretting  about 
you !"  exclaimed  Miss  Lane.  "Maybe  you  went  off 
to  sleep  and  forgot  yourself.  I  did  the  same  thing 
Friday.  I  was  sitting  in  the  rocking-chair  sewing 
on  a  shirt  for  one  of  Sam's  boys  and  dropped  off.  I 
did  n't  wake  up  for  an  hour,  and  my  neck  was  nearly 
broken  from  the  way  my  head  had  bobbed  round." 

"I  have  n't  been  sleeping !"  snapped  Andy. 

"You  're  sick,  are  n't  you,  Andy  ?"  asked  Jerry 
Payson,  anxiously.  "You  missed  a  fine  dinner,  too. 
I  had  Ellen  to  set  up  your  choice  piece  of  the  chicken 
and  a  dish  of  those  marrowfat  peas.  I  thought  you 
might  get  to  feeling  better  and  want  a  snack  before 
supper  time." 

"What  're  you  flinging  them  pesky  peas  at  me 
for  ?"  demanded  Andy,  angrily. 


AN  EPISODE;.  137 

"Why,  I  only  meant  you  to  have  your  share," 
replied  Jerry,  bewildered  at  the  accusation.  "You 
said  they  were  the  finest  we  ever  raised  when  you 
brought  them  in  from  the  garden  yesterday.  Is  it 
your  stomach  or  your  knee  that's  pestering  you?" 

"My  knee  's  a  steady  pesteration,  but  now — O 
lordy,  my  stomach  's  upset  for  the  balance  of  my 
days,  I  reckon !  Do  n't  you  ever  mention  peas  to  me 
again.  I  've  got  enough  to  do  me  till  I  'm  laid  on 
Crown  Hill." 

"You  got  overheated,  Andy,  and  it 's  gone  to 
your  stomach.  I  guess  I  '11  have  Dr.  Hilton  come 
to  see  you,  and  Peggy,  too.  She  has  n't  been  herself 
since  Lina  died  two  years  ago ;  but  she  's  drooped 
worse  than  ever  here  lately." 

"When  I  want  a  doctor  I  '11  let  you  know,"  as- 
serted Andy,  harshly.  "You  look  after  Peggy  and 
let  me  alone." 

"It  is  n't  medicine  I  'm  needing,  Jerry,"  said  Mrs. 
Strong,  coming  out  of  the  house,  hollow-eyed  and 
wan.  "It 's  the  worry  that  killed  poor  Lina  by  inches 
that 's  bearing  down  on  me  now.  I  can't  stand  the 
heft  of  it  alone  any  longer.  I  might  have  held  out 
a  while  longer  if  it  had  n't  been  for  what 's  come  out 
about  Robert ;  but  now  I  've  come  down  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it,  so  you  and  me  and  Victory  can 
keep  Hilda  and  Robert  company  in  their  trouble. 
La,  me,  there  's  trouble  at  every  turn  in  this  world." 

"I  can  swear  to  that,  Peggy,"  announced  Andy, 
dolefully.  "I  've  had  nothing  but  trouble  ever  since 
the  day  I  was  born." 


138  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"You  '11  find  out  that  your  troubles  are  n't  any 
bigger  than  a  flea  on  a  dog's  back,  Andy,  if  you  '11 
listen  to  what  I  've  got  to  tell.  It 's  what  Robert 's 
got  to  bear,  and  what 's  got  to  fall  on  Victory  now, 
that  cuts  into  the  heart." 

"There,  there,  Peggy,  do  n't  take  on  so,"  said 
Jerry  Payson,  kindly.  "I  '11  bear  things  with  you, 
whatever  comes." 

"I  know,  Jerry ;  but  you  have  n't  any  sort  of 
notion  what 's  coming,  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that 
you  and  me  together  can't  take  the  brunt  of  it  off  of 
Victory's  shoulders.  I  '11  tell  it  now  before  she  gets 
home,  and  then  she  '11  have  to  hear  it." 

With  this  preface  Mrs.  Strong  sobbed  out  her 
pitiful  story. 


XII. 
PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY. 

"You  all  mind  the  night  Rhody  Despard  brought 
Lina  home  ?  Well,  then  you  have  n't  forgot  what 
Lina  told  the  next  day  about  Jim  Despard  getting 
hung  because  folks  believed  he  did  an  awful  thing 
in  the  neighborhood  where  he  lived,  and  how  Jason 
Radcliffe  tried  to  save  him  from  the  mob,  and  got  a 
load  of  shot  in  his  back  and  his  house  burnt  over  his 
head  to  pay  for  it.  I  do  n't  know  as  I  blame  Jason 
for  trying  to  help  Jimi — Lina  said  the  nigger  was 
raised1"  close  to  the  Radcliffe  plantation,  and  would 
have  fought  and  died  for  Jason  just  the  same — but 
I  do  think  Jason  went  too  far  when  he  hid  Jim  in 
his  own  garret  and  riled  the  mob  up  to  set  fire  to 
the  house  and  scare  Lina  half  to  death,  besides  get- 
ting himself  shot  up  so  bad  he  died. 

"I  do  n't  know  what  they  would  have  done  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Rhody  Despard.  She  said  Jason 
had  stood  by  Jim  to  the  death,  and  she  was  n't  the 
one  to  forsake  such  a  friend  as  that.  She  took 
Lina  and  Jason  to  her  cabin,  and  did  the  best  she 
could  by  them,  and  when  Jason  was  dying  promised 
to  bring  Lina  up  North  as  soon  as  she  could.  Well, 
Jason  wasn't  much  more  than  in  the  ground  till 
139 


140  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Una  took  down  with  the  fever,  and  Rhody  kept  her 
in  the  cabin  and  did  for  her,  besides  taking  in  wash- 
ing for  a  living  and  to  get  money  to  fetch  Lina  home. 

"Jason  was  only  a  clerk,  and  all  they  had  was 
the  house  and  things  that  got  burnt,  so  Lina  had  to 
sell  her  watch  and  rings  to  pay  for  Jason's  coffin 
and  burying.  She  was  too  proud  to  write  to  me  for 
help,  because  she  'd  been  so  high-headed  and  married 
against  my  will.  Jason  said  his  folks  were  mad,  too, 
because  he  had  married  a  Northern  girl,  and  he 
would  never  go  to  see  them  till  his  mother  got  over 
her  mad  spell. 

"Well,  after  Jason  was  dead  and  Lina  next  thing 
to  it,  she  picked  up  spunk  and  wrote  to  Rupert  Rad- 
cliffe,  and  told  him  what  had  come  to  his  brother 
Jason,  and  about  her  being  sick — expecting,  and  all 
that.  Well,  Rupert  wrote  right  back  and  said  Jason 
was  n't  his  brother,  but  was  the  son  of  a  mulatto 
woman  slave  his  father  owned  before  the  war.  He 
sent  Lina  ten  dollars,  and  advised  her  to  go  up  North 
to  her  own  folks.  That  letter  broke  Lina's  heart 
for  good  and  all,  but  she  never  told  me  about  it  till 
a  day  or  two  before  she  died. 

"After  Lina  got  that  letter  Rhody  bundled  her 
up,  and  with  what  she  'd  saved  from  washing  and 
the  worth  of  the  things  in  the  cabin,  put  to  the  ten 
dollars  Rupert  RadclifFe  had  sent,  the  pair  of  them 
started  up  here.  You  mind  how  they  got  here  at 
last — half  dead,  and  both  expecting.  And  you  know 
what  end  poor  Rhody  came  to,  and  how  Lina  sat 
round  shivering  and  moaning  the  rest  of  her  mortal 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  141 

days.  We  all  thought  she  'd  get  over  the  worst  of 
her  sorrow  and  come  to  her  proper  senses  after  Vic- 
tory was  born ;  but  she  did  n't.  She  never  could 
bear  to  look  at  Victory,  and  think  of  the  curse  that 
she  'd  brought  to  her. 

"Well,  L,ina  sat  upstairs  in  her  room  year  after 
year  with  sorrow  eating  her  heart  out,  and  when  at 
the  end  she  told  me  about  Rupert  Radcliffe's  letter, 
she  said  it  was  the  way  that  Jason  had  fooled  her 
that  was  worst  of  all.  She  had  trusted  him  and 
given  up  her  own  folks  and  home  to  go  with  him, 
and  never  grudged  what  she  'd  lost  for  his  sake, 
when  all  the  time  he  was  part  nigger  and  lying  when 
he  said  his  folks  were  so  fine  and  grand.  She  turned 
against  him  then — and  him  in  his  grave — and  felt 
creepy  and  shaky  to  think  she  was  bound  to  be  the 
mother  of  a  baby  that  was  part  nigger.  She  prayed 
to  die  and  the  baby  with  her  before  it  was  born ;  but 
God  did  n't  answer  her  prayer.  Just  before  she  died 
she  told  me  the  whole  story,  and  said  for  me  to  tell 
you  and  Hilda,  Jerry,  and  then  Victory,  so  she 
would  n't  marry  and  fool  some  white  man  into  be- 
lieving she  was  full  white.  But  I  never  could  get 
up  spunk  to  tell  it.  I  've  worn  myself  out  wondering 
what  Victory  '11  do  when  she  finds  out  things.  I  'd 
rather  have  her  die  this  minute  than  to  drag  through 
years  of  misery  like  Una  did. 

"You  've  got  at  the  bottom  of  what  ails  me  now, 
Jerry.  I  wish  it  was  a  case  for  bluemass  and  qui- 
nine, but  it  is  n't.  You  '11  have  to  make  out  to  tell 
Victory,  for  I  can't.  She  's  so  high-headed,  and  her 


142  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

heart  is  set  against  the  niggers — all  but  Liberty. 
It  '11  nearly  kill  her,  I  reckon.  La,  me,  I  wish  those 
birds  would  keep  their  mouths  shut  a  bit.  Seems 
like  they  have  n't  a  mite  of  sense  when  folks  are  feel- 
ing bad." 

"Let  them  sing,  Peggy,"  said  Hilda  Lane,  gently ; 
"maybe  they  're  wiser  than  we  think,  and  are  trying 
to  cheer  us  up.  I  take  it  God  meant  for  the  birds  to 
sing,  rain  or  shine.  If  they  had  to  hush  every  time 
sorrow  comes  to  folks  they  would  n't  get  much 
chance  to  let  out  what 's  bubbling  up  in  their  happy 
little  hearts.  I  'm  glad  you  've  let  out  what 's  been 
pestering  you  so  long,  Peggy.  I  take  it  we  ought  to 
share  sorrows  and  happiness  with  each  other.  We 
do  sort  of  share  them,  whether  we  're  willing  or  not. 
A  body  that 's  happy  can't  help  looking  smily,  and 
trouble  talks  the  same  way.  Of  course  there  are 
sorts  of  joys  that  keep  sweetest  without  bringing 
them  to  the  light  of  day,  and  sorrows  too  deep  for 
any  but  God  to  know  and  share;  but  not  many.  I 
take  it  as  a  rule  folks  ought  to  help  each  other  to 
bear  their  troubles,  and  they  ought  to  divide  their 
blessings  and  their  joys." 

"Yes,  yes,  Hilda,"  murmured  Jerry  Payson, 
sadly. 

"I  take  it  what  won't  lay  still  in  a  body's  mind 
without  bubbling  out  in  signs  or  looks  will  have  to 
come  out  in  words  sooner  or  later,  or  it 's  going 
against  nature.  Troubles  get  lighter  when  we  tell 
them ;  happiness  is  n't  full  ripe  till  we  share  it,  and 
sins  get  blacker  and  blacker  till  we  've  done  what  we 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  143 

can  to  right  them  with  the  folks  we  've  wronged, 
and  with  God." 

"O  lordy !"  groaned  Andy  Peters. 

Mrs.  Strong  had  grown  calm,  and  a  meditative 
mood  fell  upon  the  small  company.  Hilda  Lane 
seldom  yielded  to  tears,  but  found  it  difficult  to  re- 
strain them  as  she  searched  Jerry  Payson's  face, 
longing  to  relieve  him  of  the  suffering  that  words 
could  not  lessen.  The  old  soldier  presented  a  par- 
ticularly pathetic  aspect  as  he  sat  with  closed  eyes, 
the  warm  June  breezes  tossing  the  silvery  hair  from 
his  forehead  and  exposing  the  blue-veined  temples. 
His  features,  too,  were  strangely  pale  and  sharpened, 
and  he  was  very  quiet.  Bending  toward  him  at  last 
Hilda  Lane  touched  the  flag  that  mantled  part  of 
his  body,  and  asked  softly : 

"You  are  n't  sick,  are  you,  Jerry  ?" 

"No,  no,  Hilda,"  he  replied  with  a  start.  "I  was 
thinking  of  what  you  said  about  the  sort  of  joys  that 
keep  sweet  without  coming  to  the  light  of  day,  and 
the  sorrows  that  're  too  deep  to  share  with  any  but 
God.  I  know  there  's  such  as  that,  but  I  'd  be  will- 
ing to  bear  worse  trouble  than  any  I  've  ever  had  to 
stand  between  Victory  and  what 's  waiting  for  her. 
I  wish  the  Almighty  would  draw  the  black  out  of 
her  blood  and  put  it  in  mine.  I  'd  give  the  leg  I  've 
got  left  and  my  arm,  and — O  glory,  I  'd  give — yes, 
I  'd  give  my  good  eye  along  with  the  rest  to  save 
Victory  from  sorrow !" 

A  burst  of  emotion — a  queer,  gulping  sob,  es- 
caped from  Andy  Peters.  He  left  his  place  and 


144  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

hobbled  around  the  house.  Peggy  Strong  began  to 
weep  again,  but  Hilda  Lane,  with  a  bright  light  in 
her  eyes  and  a  flush  in  her  cheeks,  said  almost  ten- 
derly : 

"I  take  it  the  same  God  that  fetched  you  back 
alive  from  the  war,  Jerry,  is  at  the  head  of  things 
yet,  and  knows  what 's  best.  I  know  how  you  feel 
for  Victory — I  feel  it  all  through  me,  because  of 
what 's  come  to  Robert — but  we  have  n't  lived  this 
long  and  braved  things  at  the  post  of  duty  to  be  out- 
done and  give  up  heart  now,  have  we  ?" 

"I  reckon  not,  Hilda ;  but  I  'm  hard  pushed — O 
glory,  I  'm  hard  pushed  just  now !" 

"I  know ;  I  feel  for  you,  Jerry.  You  and  Peggy 
and  me  will  have  to  stand  close  together  and  sort  of 
prop  up  Victory  and  Robert,  if  they  need  it,  till  the 
worst  hurt  is  past.  'T  won't  do  for  us  to  show  the 
white  flag  or  eat  the  dust  before  them." 

"That's  right,  Hilda;  but  who's  to  stick  the 
knife  into  Victory's  innocent  heart  ?" 

"It 's  bound  to  be  one  that  loves  her,  Jerry.  If 
not  you  or  Peggy,  it  '11  have  to  be  me." 

"No,  you  've  got  Robert  on  your  hands.  I  '11 
tell  her  myself,  but  I  'd  rather  be  shot  dead." 

"Yes,  I  know ;  death  is  n't  the  worst  thing  to 
face.  But  do  n't  fight  long  with  the  dread  of  it.  It 
won't  make  it  any  easier  for  Victory  to  wait.  Maybe 
she  and  Robert  can  comfort  each  other." 

"I  'd  rather  you  would  n't  tell  Robert  or  anybody, 
Hilda.  Let  Victory  tell  it  or  keep  it,  just  as  she 
pleases.  Of  course  she  '11  be  bound  to  tell  the 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  145 

Horines,  and  that  '11  end  what 's  between  her  and 
Eric.  O  glory !  I  've  watched  the  pair  of  them  mak- 
ing love  to  one  t'  other  for  years  past.  It 's  been  a 
pleasant  sight.  Eric  hitching  up  to  Victory  sort  of 
shy  at  first,  but  getting  braver  by  and  by,  and  speak- 
ing out  like  a  man  when  he  found  out  what  ailed 
him.  And  it  tickled  me  to  watch  Victory's  skittish- 
ness  wear  off  little  by  little  till  she  was  willing  to  let 
Eric  have  his  say,  and  glad  to  hear  it.  But  that 's  all 
over  and  done  with  now.  The  judge  would  n't  give 
up  to  have  mixed  blood  in  the  family,  even  if  Eric 
could  shut  his  eyes  to  things." 

"La,  me,  Jerry,  I  forgot  one  thing,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Strong,  suddenly.  "I  forgot  the  letter  Lina 
wrote  for  Victory.  It 's  got  the  whole  story  I  Ve 
told  written  out,  and  a  heap  more  that  Lina  wanted 
Victory  to  know.  We  '11  be  saved  the  telling  of 
things  to  the  poor  girl  anyway.  I  '11  give  her  the 
letter  and  let  her  find  out  things  for  herself." 

"And  there 's  Victory  and  Eric  coming  right 
now,"  said  Miss  Lane,  quietly. 

Eric  helped  Victory  out  of  his  trap  at  the  gate 
and  drove  away.  The  girl  sauntered  up  the  shady 
driveway,  her  hands  full  of  wild  flowers,  a  smile 
wreathing  her  happy  face.  But  she  paused  at  the 
steps  of  the  veranda,  glancing  at  the  strained  faces 
of  the  little  group  wonderingly. 

"What  has  happened,  Aunt  Hilda?  Has  Robert 
come?  Has  something  new  developed?  You  all 
look  so  dismal,  you  know." 


146  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"You  '11  know  directly,  pettie,"  replied  Miss 
Lane,  sadly. 

"O  glory !"  moaned  Jerry  Payson,  unable  to  re- 
strain himself. 

Mrs.  Strong  went  forward  and,  putting  her  arm 
around  her  granddaughter,  drew  her  into  the  house, 
saying  brokenly : 

"There  's  trouble  waiting  for  you,  Victory.  It 
started  before  you  were  born.  We  hate  to  have  you 
know,  but  it 's  got  to  be.  When  you  feel  like  read- 
ing it,  there  's  a  letter  waiting  for  you  from  your 
mother." 

"From  mamma  ?"  exclaimed  the  girl,  blankly. 

"Yes.  She  wrote  it  before  she  died,  and  told  me 
to  give  it  to  you  before  you  got  to  liking  any  man 
well  enough  to  want  to  marry  him.  But  I  put  it  off, 
and  the  first  thing  I  knew  you  and  Eric  were  en- 
gaged. I  've  kept  the  letter  back  too  long  now ; 
but  if  you  'd  rather  wait — " 

"But  I  do  n't  want  to  wait  another  minute, 
grandma!  Where  is  the  letter?" 

"La,  me,  child,  do  n't  jump  at  trouble  that  way. 
It 's  upstairs.  I  hate  to  get  it  for  you." 

"I  '11  go  up  with  you,  and  take  the  letter  to  my 
own  room  to  read,"  declared  the  girl. 

When  Mrs.  Strong  had  taken  the  sorrow-laden 
letter  from  its  secret  hiding-place  and  put  it  into 
the  girl's  hands,  she  pleaded: 

"Let  me  stay  with  you,  Victory." 

"No,  no,  grandma.     Please  let  me  read  poor 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  147 

mamma's  letter  all  alone.  But  give  your  stubborn 
girl  a  kiss  before  you  go." 

Victory  did  not  go  down  to  supper  nor  would 
she  admit  any  one  to  her  room  that  night;  but  she 
appeared  at  the  breakfast  table,  pale,  self-possessed, 
and  forbidding.  Mrs.  Strong  began  to  weep  when 
she  saw  the  white-set  face,  and  approached  the  girl 
with  a  caress,  but  was  gently  repulsed. 

"Don't  be  grieved,  grandma.  I  mustn't  break 
down  now — there  's  my  school  to  look  after,  you 
know,"  said  Victory,  steadily.  She  did  not  allow 
herself  a  glance  at  the  wretched  face  of  her  uncle 
till  she  came  out  on  the  veranda  ready  for  school. 
He  reached  out  his  hand,  crying  brokenly: 

"Do  n't  go  without  kissing  me  the  same  as  al- 
ways, Victory !  My  heart 's  broke  for  you !" 

Without  a  word  the  girl  dropped  to  her  knees, 
within  the  encircling  arm  that  had  sheltered  her  in 
all  her  childish  troubles,  and  laid  her  head  on  the 
shoulder  that  had  pillowed  it  so  often ;  but  only  for 
a  moment's  respite.  Rising  quickly  she  left  a  kiss 
on  the  old  soldier's  brow,  and  went  on  her  way  with 
only  a  fluttering  sigh  to  ease  her  anguish.  She 
returned  in  an  hour. 

"I  can  never  teach  in  the  Payson  Bend  schools 
again,  you  know,  Uncle  Jerry,"  she  answered  to 
his  look  of  inquiry.  "I  have  found  a  substitute  for 
to-day,  which  is  fortunately  the  last  of  the  term. 
I  did  n't  see  Eric.  I  can't  bear  to  just  yet.  If  he 
calls,  please  tell  him  to  excuse  me  from  coming 
down." 


148  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Before  Jerry  Payson  could  speak  a  detaining 
word,  Victory  hastened  away  to  battle  with  her  sor- 
row in  the  solitude  of  her  own  room. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  old  Payson  house  was 
heavily  freighted  with  gloom.  Victory,  the  young 
queen  whose  wishes  were  pleasant  laws,  and  whose 
smiles  had  been  like  sunshine  always,  was  stricken 
with  grief.  How  could  her  loving  subjects  do  aught 
but  suffer  with  her? 

Mrs.  Strong  took  her  knitting  and  sat  in  the 
upper  corridor  close  to  Victory's  door  all  day.  Jerry 
Payson  staid  on  the  veranda,  covered  with  his  be- 
loved flag,  too  downcast  to  sing  his  daily  songs  or 
find  pleasure  in  looking  about.  Andy  pottered 
around  the  place  restlessly,  muttering  and  groaning. 

Eric  Horine  hastened  to  see  Victory  at  close  of 
school,  and  only  because  he  refused  to  go  home 
without  an  interview  did  the  girl  finally  consent  to 
go  down  to  the  parlor.  Eric  was  alarmed  at  her 
appearance. 

"What  has  befallen  you,  dearest?"  he  asked, 
anxiously.  "It  must  be  more  than  physical  indis- 
position. You  are  harassed  mentally." 

"You  are  right.  I  am  harassed  almost  beyond 
endurance,"  replied  the  girl,  dry-eyed  and  unnatural 
in  her  desolateness.  "If  I  were  superstitious  I  should 
think  a  judgment  had  fallen  upon  me  because  of  my 
attitude  toward  the  Negro  race.  But  my  own  mis- 
fortune does  not  change  my  opinion  nor  incline  me 
to  be  less  rigid  in  drawing  the  line  between  the  races, 
even  though  I  have  discovered  that  whoever  rejects 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  149 

Robert  Lane  on  account  of  the  taint  in  his  blood 
must  measure  me  in  the  same  scale  of  justice." 

"Why  do  you  talk  so  wildly,  Victory  ?  You  are 
feverish,  I  fear." 

"I  am  feverish,  no  doubt,  Eric ;  but  I  am  rational 
and  responsible  for  my  words.  It  is  best  for  you  to 
realize  the  truth.  Our  betrothal  must  end  with  this 
meeting." 

"Not  so,  dearest.  I  will  never  give  you  up,  come 
what  may,  never !"  declared  the  lover,  fervently. 
And  when  he  had  heard  the  story,  he  repeated  his 
vows  and  refused  to  release  Victory  from  her  bond. 

The  young  man  went  home  depressed  in  spirit, 
but  fully  aroused  to  the  importance  of  the  issue  to 
be  met  at  the  town  hall  meeting  that  night.  He  had 
a  double  reason  now  for  desiring  the  overthrow 
of  the  old  ordinance. 

The  seven-thirty  train  was  late  that  night  and, 
not  knowing  it,  Liberty  Despard,  who  was  expect- 
ing Robert  Lane,  had  given  up  looking  for  him 
when  she  heard  his  step  on  the  porch  and  ran  to  meet 
him.  Miss  Lane  had  been  detained  at  Sam 
Ritchie's,  but  reached  home  while  the  girl  was 
urging  Robert  to  partake  of  the  light  lunch  she  had 
prepared  for  him.  In  truth  Liberty  was  anxious 
to  keep  the  young  man  from  going  down  town, 
knowing  that  his  way  from  the  depot  had  not  lain 
through  the  business  street,  and  surmising  that  he 
was  ignorant  of  the  meeting  that  was  already  con- 
vening at  the  town  hall. 

"Sakes   alive,   Robert!"  exclaimed  Miss   Lane. 


150  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  was  wishing  you  'd  be  here.  I  'm  mighty  glad 
you  've  come.  Yes,  yes,  do  sit  up  to  the  table  and 
eat  a  bite." 

"But  I  've  had  supper,  Auntie.  I  got  off  at  a 
way  station  where  we  were  delayed.  I  told  Liberty 
not  to  get  anything  for  me." 

"Did  you  have  cherry  pie?"  asked  Liberty,  in- 
sinuatingly. 

"Cherry  pie  ?  No,  I  did  n't.  Where  is  it  ?  Bring 
it  on — and  a  glass  of  milk.  I  '11  make  a  martyr  of 
myself  at  that  price." 

"You  can  have  your  fill  of  cherry  pie  for  a  week 
or  two  more,  Robert.  The  trees  were  loaded  this 
year.  We  Ve  canned  a  fine  lot,  and  now  Liberty 
and  me  together  make  a  dozen  pies  every  morning." 

"I  see.  All  but  one  or  two  find  their  way  over 
to  back  street  to  blind  Sally  and  old  Jake  Wood- 
son  and  his  bedridden  wife  and  Hepsy  Brown  and 
her  brood." 

"That 's  right  as  far  as  you  've  gone ;  but  there  's 
a  few  more.  The  cherry  season  do  n't  last  long,  and 
I  take  it  there  's  real  pleasure  in  making  good  pies 
to  treat  folks  with  that  don't  have  any  extras  for 
common.  But  you  sit  up  and  eat  now.  I  '11  go  and 
change  my  dress,  I  feel  so  hot  and  smudgy.  I  've 
got  a  heap  to  tell  you,  Robert." 

"And  I  '11  be  pleased  to  hear  all  the  news.  I  'm 
always  anxious  to  grow  wiser,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  there 's  news  that  is  n't 
pleasant  to  hear.  I  take  it  we  Ve  got  sorts  of  les- 
sons to  learn  in  this  world,  heart  lessons  and  head 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  151 

lessons  and  others  that  almost  break  a  body  down 
to  learn  and  bear  up  under." 

"So  we  have,  Aunty.  We  need  difficult  lessons 
to  develop  our  highest  nature,  sometimes." 

"That 's  how  I  take  it.  A  body  ought  to  keep 
looking  above  the  muddles  close  by  to  where  God  is 
at  the  head  of  things.  Liberty,  you  take  the  rocking- 
chairs  out  on  the  porch.  We  '11  sit  there,  it 's  cooler. 
I  '11  be  downstairs  directly,  Robert." 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Liberty?"  asked  Robert, 
presently.  "You  and  Auntie  seem  depressed.  Is 
Mrs.  Ritchie  dangerously  ill?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  replied  the  girl,  and  then  to 
the  young  man's  astonishment  she  began  to  cry  and 
ran  from  the  room.  He  looked  after  her  thought- 
fully, and  when  Miss  Lane  came  downstairs  in  a 
clean  print  wrapper  and  led  the  way  to  the  porch, 
he  asked : 

"Has  anything  gone  wrong  with  Liberty,  Aunty  ? 
It  struck  me  that  both  of  you  were  not  quite  nat- 
ural, and  when  I  spoke  about  it  she  broke  out 
crying." 

"Sakes  alive,  Robert,  she  's  crazy  with  the  hurt 
of  things  that  have  come  to  you.  I  'd  as  well  pitch 
in  and  tell  you  the  whole  truth  and  be  done  with  it." 

"By  all  means.    What  is  it  ?" 

Miss  Lane  told  the  story  as  briefly  as  possible. 
Perhaps  it  was  well  that  the  friendly  darkness  hid 
Robert's  face  from  her  loving  eyes.  She  concluded 
her  recital  with  the  supposition  that  the  town  hall 
meeting  was  in  progress. 


152  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Robert  asked  a  few  questions  concerning  what 
he  had  heard  in  mechanical  tones,  quite  as  if  he  were 
speaking  of  a  matter -apart  from  himself,  and  then 
remarked  composedly : 

"I  am  going  down  town  awhile,  Aunty." 

"Well.  You  know  what 's  best,  Robbie,"  was 
the  gentle  reply. 

Liberty  was  at  the  gate,  and  knowing  that  the 
dreadful  revelation  had  been  made,  cried  out  pas- 
sionately : 

"I  'd  die  to  blot  out  your  trouble,  Robert !  O ! 
I  'd  die  gladly,  gladly !" 

"Die  ?  It  is  n't  dead  friends  I  need,  Liberty. 
It 's  living  ones.  But  we  will  speak  of  this  again. 
Do  n't  grieve,  little  sister — go  to  the  house  and 
comfort  Aunty." 

Easily  detecting  the  ring  of  bravely  borne  pain 
in  the  man's  voice,  Liberty  broke  into  fresh  sobs,  and 
running  to  the  porch  threw  herself  down  at  Miss 
Lane's  feet  in  an  abandonment  of  grief. 

At  breakast  time  next  morning  Mrs.  Strong  dis- 
covered that  Victory  was  missing  from  her  room. 
A  note  explained  her  absence.  She  had  started 
South  to  confirm  the  story  of  her  parentage,  and 
seek  out  her  Negro  relatives,  if  any  were  living. 
She  asked  that  no  effort  be  made  to  recall  her,  and 
promised  to  return  as  soon  as  her  mission  was 
accomplished.  She  left  a  message  for  Eric  also, 
as  he  was  unaware  of  her  departure. 

The  discovery  of  Victory's  absence  was  a  matter 


PEGGY  STRONG'S  STORY.  153 

of  concern  to  the  household,  but  Jerry  Payson  ex- 
pressed confidence  in  the  girl's  ability  to  take  care 
of  herself,  and  hid  his  own  anxiety  under  a  guise  of 
hopefulness.  He  repeatedly  averred  that  Victory 
would  be  the  better  for  change  of  scene,  and  that 
action  was  the  only  thing  that  could  in  any  way 
relieve  the  first  cruel  shock  of  the  blow  she  had 
sustained. 


XIII. 
AT  THE  TOWN  HALL. 

THE  meeting  at  the  town  hall  on  the  night  of 
Robert's  return  proved  to  be  a  notable  event  in  the 
history  of  Payson  Bend.  In  spite  of  the  attempts 
of  the  school  board  at  secrecy,  the  name  of  the  un- 
fortunate applicant  had  gotten  abroad,  to  the  in- 
crease of  public  excitement.  At  early  candle  light 
the  hall  was  packed  to  its  utmost  capacity. 

Oddly  enough  the  speakers  for  the  evening  were 
Judge  Horine  and  his  son,  but  not  until  after  the 
company  had  assembled  was  Eric  appointed  as  the 
opponent  of  his  father.  The  member  of  the  board 
naturally  selected  for  that  position  had  been  de- 
tained at  home  by  a  serious  accident,  and  the  com- 
mittee were  hastily  casting  about  for  a  capable  sub- 
stitute when  the  judge  sneeringly  suggested  Eric 
as  a  suitable  alternate,  a  challenge  which  the  young 
man  instantly  accepted. 

It  is  probable  that  Judge  Horine  regretted  the 
outcome  of  his  own  sarcastic  suggestion  for  various 
reasons.  But  he  did  not  allow  any  scruple,  fatherly 
or  otherwise,  to  dampen  his  ardor  for  the  success 
of  his  own  argument.  After  the  usual  preliminaries 
he  opened  the  debate  with  the  perfect  attention  of 
154 


AT  THE  TOWN  HAU,.  155 

his  audience  for  a  stimulus.  He  was  possessed  of 
strong  personality,  and,  albeit  somewhat  pompous, 
was  highly  esteemed  in  the  community.  He  had  no 
difficulty  in  holding  the  attention  of  his  listeners  to 
the  end  of  his  argument,  which  began  with  an  abus- 
ive attack  on  the  demerits  and  unworthiness  of  the 
Negro  race  in  general,  and  ended  with  a  somewhat 
lengthy  but  masterly  defense  of  the  ordinance  at 
stake. 

When  Judge  Horine  sat  down  at  the  close  of  his 
speech,  with  the  hearty  applause  of  his  audience  ring- 
ing in  his  ears,  there  was  a  self-complacent  smile 
on  his  face.  He  was  pleasantly  conscious  that  the 
house  was  with  him,  for  the  time  at  least.  But  his 
triumph  was  of  short  duration. 

Without  delay  Eric  Horine  stepped  forward  with 
the  glow  of  youthful  courage  and  enthusiasm  light- 
ing his  countenance,  and  began  to  speak : 

"Mr.  Chairman,  friends,  and  fellow-citizens :  My 
opponent  appeals  to  you  to  sustain  an  article  whose 
rightful  tenure  expired  when  the  Emancipation 
Proclamation  was  declared.  He  implores  you  to 
hold  fast  to  a  moldy  policy  that  should  have  been 
superseded  by  nobler  and  broader  principles  of  hu- 
manity and  good  will  when  our  Boys  in  Blue  came 
marching  home  from  the  fields  where  they  had 
fought  and  bled  to  preserve  the  Union  and  wrench 
the  shackles  from  a  downtrodden  race.  He  be- 
seeches you  to  defend  the  borders  of  our  town 
against  a  deadly  foe,  as  if  we  were  in  a  land  where 
savages  and  pirates  and  adulterers  roam  in  legions 


156  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

to  despoil  our  homes  of  peace  and  virtue,  and  rob 
us  of  power  and  liberty ! 

"Are  we,  the  ruling  supporters  of  this  peerless 
Republic,  so  lacking  in  stamina  that  the  dusky  race, 
which  we  no  longer  call  servant  but  friend,  may  in 
a  moment's  revengeful  remembrance  subdue  our 
strength,  hurl  our  proud  supremacy  to  the  earth, 
and  usurp  our  Nation's  throne  with  the  rule  of  bar- 
barism? Is  the  great  Judge  of  our  country's  past 
wrongs  to  a  lowly  people  not  yet  appeased  by  the 
sacrifice  of  lives  and  homes  and  fortunes  laid  at  the 
altar  of  patriotism  to  conquer  a  spurious  departure 
from  our  Nation's"  creeds,  prove  the  fallacy  of  un- 
righteous bondage,  and  purchase  the  freedom  of  a 
helpless  people?  Does  the  Nemesis  of  the  shame 
that  flourished  before  the  mighty  blood-fought 
tragedy  of  the  sixties  indeed  lurk  like  a  vengeful 
vampire  nursing  its  wrath  and  strength,  till,  like  a 
giant  Samson  in  the  majesty  of  blind  rage,  it  may 
rise  in  a  paroxysm  of  might  and  wreck  our  dream 
of  security?  Shall  Negro  temerity  one  day  arise, 
demolish  our  Government,  survive  the  ruin,  and  bind 
the  remnant  of  our  race  with  the  shackles  we  once 
broke  from  their  ancestors,  but  failed  to  cast  into  the 
bottomless  pit? 

"Friends,  be  it  broken  or  whole,  a  shackle  is  a 
dangerous  souvenir — irritating  to  the  former  cap- 
tive, reproachful  to  the  cause  of  justice,  and  sug- 
gestive of  evil  to  the  partisan  of  unfairness !  It 
would  be  safer  to  cast  the  broken  shackles  of  the 
past  into  the  furnace  of  love,  and  from  the  molten 


AT  THE  TOWN  HALL.  157 

metal  of  chain  and  clasp  shapen  a  talisman  of 
brotherhood.  Then,  indeed,  the  ghostly  shadows 
of  retribution  would  cease  to  haunt  our  hearth- 
stones ! 

"My  opponent  defines  his  premise,  determines 
our  dangers,  and  exaggerates  our  probable  frailties, 
as  if  we  were  incompetent  to  choose  our  associates 
and  incapable  of  defensive  morality.  Is  Payson 
Bend  the  retreat  of  a  distinctive  clan  or  species 
around  which  a  wall  must  be  kept  reared  and 
guarded  lest  venturesome  breeds  gain  entrance  with 
malignant  intent  to  ravish  us  of  purity  and  contami- 
nate our  progeny?  Are  we  so  virile,  so  devoid  of 
innate  virtue  that  we  are  liable  to  succumb  to  the 
baser  elements  of  our  natures,  as  my  adversary  fears, 
at  the  approach  of  the  unfortunate  race?  I  deny 
the  supposition ! 

"We  are  the  offspring  of  stalwart  fathers,  and 
are  not  weaklings  that  we  must  shrink  from  a  less 
cultured  race  lest  we  fall  under  a  baleful  spell — 
turn  rebel  to  inherent  honor,  and  sink  into  the  mire 
of  degradation.  The  humble  brotherhood  we  have 
spurned  has  long  been  acknowledged  free  by  the 
heart  of  our  Nation,  yet  we  have  held  our  town  ex- 
empt from  such  a  claim,  and  called  ourselves  Amer- 
icans ! 

"Where  are  our  articles  of  patriotism  ?  Are  they 
hidden  away  to  rust  out  with  the  blood-stained  in- 
struments of  war  in  some  deep  chasm  of  the  vague 
borderland  twixt  North  and  South,  where  our  sol- 
diers demonstrated  the  principles  of  equality,  lib- 


158  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

erty,  and  freedom  for  the  pursuit  of  happiness? 
Where  is  our  boasted  loyalty  to  the  sad-eyed,  daunt- 
less pilot  of  the  Union's  crucial  experience,  and  to 
the  noble  legion  of  the  Blue,  one  of  whom,  shat- 
tered but  unfaltering  in  loyalty  to  his  country's 
honor  and  glory,  is  present  with  us  to-night,  our 
well-beloved  friend,  whose  flag  has  never  dipped 
into  the  mire  of  distrust,  nor  furled  its  stars  and 
stripes  at  false  commands !  Long  live  our  worthy 
veterans !  Long  wave  the  starry  banner  of  the  free ! 

"The  framers  of  our  town  laws  provided  a  code 
agreeable  to  the  local  spirit  and  exigencies  of  their 
time.  But  their  necessities  are  not  ours.  Our  great- 
grandfathers wore  knee  breeches,  buckled  shoes, 
powdered  cues,  and  frills,  with  dignity  and  grace ; 
but  we  should  appear  ridiculously  out  of  date  were 
we  to  appear  in  such  attire  to-day.  And  Payson 
Bend  is  ridiculous  in  her  attitude  toward  a  race 
which  the  world  recognizes  as  a  free  and  accountable 
people!  Such  attitude  insults  our  Government, 
heaps  indignity  upon  the  fair  Goddess  of  Liberty, 
and  slurs  our  boast  of  freedom ! 

"We  are  a  progressive  people,  and  must  advance 
with  the  age!  The  achievements  of  yesterday  do 
not  content  us  to-day!  To  harp  on  the  merits  of 
that  old  town  ordinance  to  our  youth  and  seek  to 
compel  their  allegiance  to  it  is  calculated  to  make 
of  Payson  Bend  a  perpetual  hotbed  for  the  produc- 
tion of  rebels  to  the  policies  of  our  Government,  and 
to  engender  a  spirit  of  rebellion  against  national 
authority.  It  is  unlawful  to  challenge  the  wisdom 


AT  THE  TOWN  HALL.  159 

of  the  famous  Proclamation  that  startled  and  thrilled 
the  earth  from  continent  to  continent  in  the  sixties ! 
Let  us  beware  how  we  parade  a  morbid  prejudice 
before  the  minds  of  the  young,  and  so  project  the 
shadow  of  sinful  hatred  between  them  and  the 
broadening  horizons  of  to-morrow. 

"Away  with  teachings  and  precepts  that  dwarf 
our  perceptions  and  foster  oppression  to  struggling 
humanity!  Away  with  the  bondage  of  a  specious 
ordinance  that  breathes  animosity  to  the  legitimate 
results  of  the  Civil  War  and  its  stupendous  sac- 
rifice ! 

"No  mere  assertion  of  my  opponent  can  deny 
the  fact  that  this  meeting  is  a  personal  reflection 
upon  the  man  whose  application  for  a  position  in  our 
schools  aroused  the  lion  of  race  hatred,  and  called 
forth  this  public  debate  concerning  the  merits  and 
demerits  of  the  ordinance  relating  to  Negroes,  which 
our  town  has  thus  long  sustained.  And  notwith- 
standing the  unfortunate  fact  that  the  applicant's 
eligibility  is  contested  on  the  ground  that  he  is  a 
representative  of  the  colored  race,  I  denounce  the 
.spirit  that  rejects  him  as  narrow,  selfish,  and  unfair, 
and  the  law  that  would  debar  him  because  of  a  drop 
of  innocent  blood  a  willful  affront  to  the  Constitu- 
tion of  our  Union ! 

"As  the  adopted  son  of  our  good  Samaritan, 
the  individual,  of  whom  my  opponent  would  make 
a  scapegoat  upon  which  to  heap  the  shortcomings 
of  an  uncultured  race,  grew  from  infancy  to  man- 
hood in  our  midst  unsuspected  of  racial  taint,  him- 


160  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

self  irmocent  of  the  knowledge  as  well.  As  the  inti- 
mate associate  of  those  of  his  age  and  standing,  he 
was  well  and  favorably  known  at  Payson  Bend. 
Parents  and  teachers  held  him  up  as  a  bright  and 
shining  example  of  industry  and  obedience.  He 
was  the  inspiration  of  our  best  endeavors,  the  lead- 
ing spirit  of  our  sports,  captain  of  our  mock  militia, 
Crusoe  of  our  adventures,  adjuster  of  our  differences, 
and  champion  of  the  right.  He  shared  with  his  com- 
panions ungrudgingly  his  pennies,  sweets,  and  happy 
spirits,  and  lucky  was  the  boy  who  went  oftenest  to 
his  pleasant  home  to  share  his  bed  under  the  brown 
gables  and  partake  of  the  cheer  the  cottage  afforded. 

"Nor  was  heroism  lacking  in  the  character  of 
our  friend.  Perhaps  a  hundred  of  my  listeners  to- 
night were  present  at  a  school  picnic  on  the  banks 
of  Silver  Creek  ten  years  ago,  when  an  incident 
occurred  that  horrified  the  company.  Two  venture- 
some little  girls  slipped  from  the  bank  into  Death 
Hole,  and  but  for  the  bravery  and  instant  action  of 
our  friend  they  would  be  dust  with  the  dust  of 
Crown  Hill  to-night,  instead  of  being  in  this  audi- 
ence two  of  Payson  Bend's  fairest  belles. 

"I  can  not  recount  the  debts  we  owe  this  man, 
for  as  the  willing  messenger  of  his  foster  mother  he 
has  been  the  bearer  of  more  substantial  tokens  of 
cheer  and  assistance  to  the  sick,  afflicted,  and  needy 
of  our  community  than  any  dozen  other  boys  or  men 
of  our  number.  Useful,  honored,  and  loved,  he  has 
now  far  outrun  most  of  us  in  educational  pursuits, 
and  is  the  equal  of  any  of  us  in  all  things,  and  our 
superior  in  a  few. 


AT  THE  TOWN  HAU,.  161 

"Friends,  shall  we  now  pronounce  this  man  an 
outcast  ?  Is  it  not  enough  of  disaster  that  out  from 
the  deceptive  clearness  of  the  skies  a  lightning  bolt 
has  fallen  upon  him,  rending  his  soul  with  fiery  trial 
and  scorching  his  prospect?  Shall  we,  the  friends 
of  his  happier  days  and  the  sharers  of  his  prosperity, 
forsake  him  in  the  hour  of  bitter  need  ? 

"My  opponent  does  not  consent  that  our  friend 
is  a  white  man ;  I  do  not  consent  that  he  is  a  Negro. 
Does  not  the  superior  force  rule  in  all  things  ?  Our 
friend  is  eight  times  more  white  than  black.  Pray 
to  which  race  is  he  closest  kindred  ?  All  agree  that 
he  is  in  the  incarnation  of  the  highest  qualities  of 
noble  manhood,  and  I  defy  you  to  bring  a  repre- 
sentative from  your  race  and  mine  that  is  a  worthier 
example.  He  has,  in  ignorance  of  his  own  defect, 
knocked  at  our  gates  with  the  confidence  of  a  friend 
with  rich  gifts  for  our  acceptance.  Shall  he  hear 
only  the  harsh  command,  'Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed, 
into  everlasting  fire  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels !' 

"Shall  Payson  Bend  continue  to  enforce  the  ordi- 
nance this  meeting  was  called  to  consider?  That 
my  opponent  declares  is  the  question  before  us  to- 
night. I  will  answer  it  first  by  asking  another.  Can 
a  nation  or  a  community  maintain  an  ideal  attitude 
of  authority  and  fairness  under  the  proposition  that 
its  rule  is  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the 
people,  zmthout  the  unconditional  surrender  of  all 
sectional  rebellion  and  individual  prejudice?  I  be- 
lieve not.  Nor  can  a  citizen  who  claims  the  protec- 

IX 


162  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

tion  and  benefits  of  our  land  with  justice  or  honor 
deny  the  hand  of  fellowship  to  a  fellow-countryman, 
or  close  the  gates  of  a  city  against  him  simply  be- 
cause of  the  tinge  of  his  skin.  For  we  live  in  a 
country  whose  grandest  proposition  is  that  'all  men 
are  created  equal !' 

"Mr.  Chairman,  friends,  and  fellow-citizens :  We 
have  reached  a  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  Payson  Bend. 
It  is  for  you  to  decide  whether  or  not  we  shall  in- 
augurate a  new  era,  let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead, 
bid  farewell  to  local  despotism,  and  open  our  gates  to 
the  rule  of  that  truer  democracy  of  thought  and  liv- 
ing which,  irrespective  of  accident  of  birth,  gives 
to  merit  its  lawful  dues.  Think  well  before  you 
act,  for  injustice  has  its  bitterness,  and  ingratitude 
its  aftermath  of  vain  remorse. 

"My  opponent  emphasized  the  danger  of  the 
amalgamation  of  your  posterity  with  the  inferior 
race  were  you  to  set  aside  the  contested  ordinance. 
Does  he  forget  that  many  members  of  your  poster- 
ity will  naturally  strike  out  into  the  world's  mael- 
strom of  evils  in  the  fulfillment  of  ambition  and 
progress?  I  declare  to  you  that  there  is  but  one 
protection  against  amalgamation  or  any  other  crime 
in  this  world,  and  that  is  individual  purity!  If  you 
instill  godly  principles  into  the  lives  of  your  chil- 
dren they  will  be  able  to  meet  the  foes  of  purity, 
iron-clad,  at  home  or  abroad ! 

"Furthermore,  my  worthy  opponent  would  have 
you  believe  that  Payson  Bend  is  a  clean  and  hal- 
lowed spot  in  a  land  smitten  with  decay  and  infamy. 


AT  THE  TOWN  HAU,.  163 

* 

I  would  convince  you  that  Payson  Bend,  in  its  defi- 
ance of  Freedom's  imperial  law,  is  a  plague  spot 
on  the  white  bosom  of  fair  Liberty;  and  I  beseech 
the  sturdy,  godly  citizens  of  Payson  Bend  to  wipe 
out  the  iniquity ! 

"In  the  name  of  Payson  Bend's  own  brave  sol- 
diers, living  and  dead,  who  once  faced  the  fearful 
ravages  of  war  shouting  the  battle-cry  of  freedom, 
and  struggled  through  blood  and  anguish  to  sustain 
our  peerless  Union,  I  appeal  to  you!  In  the  name 
of  our  grandfathers,  lying  at  peace  on  Crown  Hill, 
whose  withered  hands  can  no  more  append  a  depar- 
ture from  the  ancient  rule  they  shaped  for  other 
necessities  than  ours,  I  appeal  to  you !  In  the  name 
of  your  posterity  whose  conceptions  of  charity  our 
present  narrow  provisions  must  malform,  and  in 
the  name  of  Humanity  whose  highest  laws  we  have 
ignored,  I  appeal  to  you,  young  and  old,  to  supplant 
that  obnoxious  old  town  ordinance  with  a  new  decree 
that  shall  accord  with  the  true  meaning  of  life,  lib- 
erty, and  the  pursuit  of  happiness !" 


"Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars 
and  Stripes !"  yelled  Jerry  Payson,  unable  to  restrain 
his  enthusiasm  an  instant  after  Eric's  closing  ap- 
peal. And  then  such  a  thunderous  applause  went 
up  from  the  audience  that  Payson  Bend's  town  hall 
was  in  danger  of  having  its  walls  rent  asunder. 

Eric  Horine  was  always  a  favorite  with  his  fel- 
lows, and  upon  this  occasion  the  necessities  of  love 
and  friendship  inspired  him  with  unusual  fervency 


164  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

of  manner,  and  so  made  his  language  doubly  effect- 
ive in  spite  of  its  bombastic  nature.  The  relation 
of  the  disputants  had  also  lent  particular  significance 
to  the  stirring  appeal  of  the  younger  man,  and  biased 
the  audience  in  his  favor.  But  from  all  points  of 
view  the  unnatural  affray  between  father  and  son 
was  extremely  unfortunate,  and  was  destined  to  bear 
evil  fruits. 

When  the  prolonged  ovation  had  subsided  some- 
what, Judge  Horine,  with  a  steely  glitter  in  his  eyes 
and  frigid  coldness  in  his  smile,  advanced  to  the 
front  of  the  rostrum  with  the  dignity  of  a  champion, 
outraged  but  neither  disarmed  nor  conquered,  and 
proceeded  with  his  short  closing  speech.  His  bear- 
ing was  tense  with  suppressed  antagonism,  but  his 
voice  was  cool  and  deliberate  in  its  scathing  sarcasm 
when  he  said : 

"Mr  Chairman  and  fellow-citizens:  It  is  always 
with  more  amusement  and  indulgence  than  irritation 
or  disgust  that  we  of  the  maturer  and  wiser  gener- 
ation listen  to  the  frothing  egotisms  of  a  callow 
stripling  but  lately  freed  from  his  mother's  apron- 
strings.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  descend  to 
any  further  defense  of  the  question  at  stake.  The 
noisy  attack  of  the  battering  ram  that  has  expended 
its  fury  against  the  ironclad  ordinance  I  uphold,  and 
against  the  honorable  terms  of  my  argument,  has 
not  in  the  least  affected  the  gravity  of  the  matter 
under  consideration,  nor  the  duty  of  the  citizens  of 
Payson  Bend  to  abide  by  the  matchless  policy  of  race 
protection  and  perpetuity. 


AT  THE;  TOWN  HAU,.  165 

"I  therefore  propose,  with  the  consent  of  those 
concerned,  to  arrive  at  the  ruling  sentiment  of  this 
people  by  a  conclusive  expression  from  them  as  a 
body,  individually  and  collectively.  I  propose  that 
each  and  all  who  favor  the  ruling  of  the  particular 
ordinance  under  discussion  to-night  shall  remain  in 
this  auditorium  after  the  signal  for  dispersion,  and 
that  each  and  all  opposers  pass  out  of  the  building 
as  speedily  as  possible.  We  shall  then  be  able  to 
determine,  in  a  satisfactory  and  orderly  manner, 
whether  or  not  it  is  the  will  of  our  citizens  to  retain 
the  contested  town  law,  or  their  desire  that  official 
measures  be  taken  for  its  annulment." 

After  the  chairman  had  repeated  the  method  pro- 
posed for  rendering  a  decision  as  to  the  winning 
side  of  the  controversy,  the  usual  closing  formalities 
were  observed,  and  the  signal  for  the  breaking  up  of 
the  meeting  given.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  densely- 
packed  throng  had  left  the  hall.  Four  aged  citizens 
out  of  all  that  vast  gathering  remained,  and  with 
Judge  Horine  and  one  other  member  of  the  school 
board  made  up  a  company  of  six  who  stood  firm  to 
the  oft-questioned  policy  of  the  law  whose  designers 
slept  undisturbed  beneath  the  ivy  of  Crown  Hill. 


XIV. 
AN  UNFORTUNATE  ENCOUNTER. 

JUDGE  HORINIC  went  home  from  the  town-hall 
meeting  incensed  at  the  town  people  in  general,  and 
against  his  son,  who  had  won  so  signal  a  triumph 
over  him,  in  particular.  He  stalked  through  the 
house  slamming  each  door  in  his  passage,  and  find- 
ing no  one  below  re-enforced  his  temper  with  a  glass 
of  brandy,  and  then  stamped  upstairs  and  into  the 
bedroom,  loudly  demanding  of  his  trembling  spouse : 

"Has  that  young  donkey  come  home?" 

"Hem'n.  Do  you  mean  Eric?"  asked"  Mrs. 
Horine,  trying  to  hide  her  indignation  under  a  pre- 
tense of  sleepiness. 

"Yes,  Madam,  I  mean  your  son,  Eric.  He  is 
no  son  of  mine!" 

"I  think  he  came  in  a  short  time  ago." 

"You  think  ?  I  warrant  you  pounced  on  him 
the  moment  he  came,  and  laughed  in  your  sleeve 
to  hear  of  the  success  of  his  insulting  attack 
upon  me !" 

There  was  discreet  silence  in  the  direction  of  the 
bed  until  the  irate  man,  in  searching  for  a  match, 
fell  over  a  chair. 

"I  left  a  light  burning  down  in  the  hall,  Judge. 
1 66 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  ENCOUNTER.          167 

I  thought  you  would  bring  it  up  with  you,"  com- 
mented Mrs.  Horine,  meekly.  "Wait,  I'll  get  an- 
other lamp." 

"Stay  where  you  are,  Madam !"  replied  the  man, 
angrily,  finding  his  way  out  of  the  door  and  banging 
it  after  him.  But  the  woman  sat  up  in  bed  and  lis- 
tened anxiously  as  the  heavy  footsteps  passed  along 
the  hall  to  stop  at  Eric's  door. 

"Is  that  you,  father?"  asked  the  young  man, 
cordially,  his  room  being  in  darkness. 

"It  is  the  master  of  this  house,  sir!  I  came  to 
inform  you  that  my  roof  is  not  broad  enough  to 
shelter  us  both." 

"Very  well,  I  will  remove  from  beneath  it  in  the 
morning,"  replied  Eric,  respectfully. 

"To-night  is  the  proper  time  for  your  removal, 
sir,  since  you  chose  this  night  publicly  to  insult  me 
and  slander  the  standards  of  your  ancestors." 

"To-night,  then,  if  you  demand  it,  father.  But 
I  did  not  consider  that  issue  a  personal  matter  be- 
tween you  and  me.  I  tried  to  meet  the  question  as 
best  I  could  at  so  short  notice — at  your  suggestion, 
father — and  spoke  my  honest  convictions.  Would 
you  wish  me  to  go  after  any  cause  unless  I  did  my 
utmost  to  win?" 

"You  are  a  puppy!  a  sneaking,  contemptible 
puppy !  The  first  mongrel  cur  ever  bred  under  the 
name  of  Horine.  You  have  made  me  the  laughing 
stock  of  the  town  with  your  confounded  harangue !" 

"I  didn't  mean  it  as  a  personal  affront  to  you. 
But  I  do  n't  regret  my  success.  I  have  more  reason 


1 68  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

than  you  imagine  for  rejoicing  over  the  result  of 
the  meeting." 

"No  doubt  you  find  it  furiously  funny  to  gloat 
over  your  father,  who  has  been  the  first  man  of  Pay- 
son  Bend  for  thirty  years.  You  are  a  knave,  a 
traitor,  an  infernal  donkey !" 

"You  are  ungenerous,  father.  I  am  sorry  the 
affair  has  caused  a  rupture  between  us;  but  it  may 
interest  you  to  know  that  the  outcome  of  to-night's 
issue  provides  that  Payson  Bend  shall  not  close  its 
gates  against  my  future  bride." 

"Your  future  bride?"  thundered  the  judge.  "I 
have  labored  under  the  impression  that  Victory  Rad- 
cliffe  was  your  prospective  bride.  Has  your  sudden 
infatuation  for  the  cursed  Negroes  led  you  to  ex- 
change her  for  Liberty  Despard  ?  But  nothing  more 
probable." 

"Nothing  less  probable.  Victory  is  my  chosen 
bride.  But  she  has  recently  discovered  that  her 
father  was  but  two  generations  removed  from  a 
Negro  ancestress.  You  will  understand  my  interest 
in  the  issue  now." 

"Heavens  and  earth!  How  much  more  degen- 
eracy has  invaded  our  neighborhood  ?  Have  I  lived 
to  face  the  hour  when  my  son  proposes  to  pollute 
the  blood  of  my  descendants  by  marriage  with  a 
negress?"  lamented  the  judge,  yielding  to  momen- 
tary weakness.  But  his  anger  rose  almost  instantly. 
"Eric,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  you  shall  never  marry 
Victory  Radcliffe,"  he  declared,  solemnly. 

"We  will  not  discuss  that  event,  father." 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  ENCOUNTER.  169 

"But  I  say  you  shall  not  marry  her!  Do  you 
propose  to  defy  me  ?" 

"I  don't  wish  to  quarrel  with  you  about  my 
promised  wife,  sir." 

"Which  means  that  you  intend  to  marry  her, 
does  it?" 

"I  arrived  at  my  majority  five  years  ago." 

"Arrived  at  your  granny's  foot !  Answer  me. 
Do  you  propose  to  marry  Victory  Radcliffe  in  the 
face  of  my  opposition  ?" 

"I  would  prefer  your  consent,  father." 

"Then  you  mean  to  marry  her  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Your  great-grandfather  killed  his  own  daugh- 
ter for  attempting  to  marry  a  mulatto." 

"Yes,  I  know.  He  was  a  murderer  and  a  suicide. 
It  gives  me  no  pleasure  to  recall  his  memory." 

"And  you  refuse  to  recognize  the  fact  that  there 
can  be  no  compromise  between  a  Hoiine  and  a 
Negro,  or  the  offspring  of  one?" 

"Why  argue  any  longer,  father?" 

"You  intend  to  marry  the  descendant  of  a 
Negro !" 

"I  intend  to  marry  Victory  Radcliffe,"  replied 
Eric,  steadily. 

"You  do?  But  I  say  you  shall  not!"  was  the 
frenzied  retort. 

The  darkness  of  the  room  was  faintly  illumined 
by  the  starlight  which  came  in  at  the  window,  and 
revealed  to  the  crazed  father  the  dimly-outlined 
form  of  his  son,  who  stood  near  it.  There  was  a 


170  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

metallic  click  in  the  pause  that  followed  the  last 
assertion  of  the  judge,  before  he  said  desperately: 

"This  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  Eric.  I  say 
you  shall  not  marry  Victory  Radcliffe!  What  have 
you  to  say  ?" 

"I  shall  marry  her  unless  you  kill  me,  father," 
replied  the  young  man,  firmly  and  fearlessly. 

A  pistol  shot  cut  the  air  sharply,  followed  by  a 
low  moan  from  Eric,  and  a  stifled  scream  from  his 
mother,  who  rushed  into  the  hall  and  came  into 
contact  with  the  judge,  who  pushed  her  back  into 
her  room  and  commanded  silence  in  fearful  tones. 
The  woman  staggered  to  the  bed  and  fell  upon  it 
half  fainting  with  terror,  while  the  judge  knocked 
various  articles  from  the  dresser  in  his  attempts  to 
find  the  small  china  matchsafe  belonging  there. 

"Where  are  those  blasted  matches?"  he  roared 
at  last. 

"There 's  a  wall  case  by  the  door — left  side,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Horine  with  chattering  teeth,  as  she 
threw  a  wrapper  over  her  night  dress. 

The  man  found  the  matches  and  lit  the  lamp, 
but  the  glass  globe  slipped  from  his  shaking  hand, 
and  striking  the  marble  top  of  the  dresser  crashed 
into  a  hundred  fragments.  A  volley  of  profane 
utterances  followed. 

"I  '11  get  another,"  whispered  Mrs.  Horine,  glid- 
ing away  like  a  shadow  and  quickly  returning  with 
another  chimney,  which  she  adjusted  to  the  smok- 
ing lamp  with  trembling  fingers. 

Glancing  at  his  wife's  anguished  face  and  shiv- 
ering body,  the  judge  began  to  realize  the  situation, 


AN  UNFORTUNATE  ENCOUNTER.  171 

and  said  harshly :  "If  you  can  keep  your  calliope  of 
a  mouth  shut,  come  along!" 

A  few  steps  brought  them  to  Eric's  door,  where 
they  paused,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  Mrs. 
Horine  shudderingly,  and  the  judge  in  sudden  fear 
of  the  result  of  his  rash  act. 

"I  did  n't  hit  the  young  donkey.  What  are  you 
acting  the  fool  about?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice,  as 
if  she  had  made  a  ghastly  accusation.  Then  he 
stepped  into  the  room.  Eric  was  not  there,  but  a 
trail  of  blood  stained  the  floor  and  eloquently  at- 
tested to  a  tragic  deed.  Stooping  with  the  light  to 
examine  the  glistening  drops  the  judge  sickened  at 
the  sight,  and  the  fury  that  had  inflamed  him 
swooned  in  the  clutch  of  remorse. 

Growing  brave  with  the  arousing  of  maternal  in- 
stinct, Mrs.  Horine  suddenly  threw  off  her  cowed 
manner,  and  taking  the  lamp  from  her  husband's 
unresisting  hands  faced  him  with  blazing  eyes. 

"You  have  done  your  worst  by  our  boy,  Judge. 
Now  let  me  find  him  and  do  my  best  by  him  in 
peace!"  she  said,  cuttingly. 

With  strength  born  of  love  the  woman  traced 
the  crimson  stains  down  the  stairs,  across  the  hall, 
and  to  the  edge  of  the  front  porch,  where  they  ended 
or  at  least  were  not  visible.  A  careful  search  of  the 
premises  gave  no  further  clue  to  the  wounded  man. 

Judge  Horine  sat  in  the  library,  while  his  wife 
hastily  removed  the  blood-stains  from  the  floor, 
watching  the  shaft  of  light  that  fell  through  the 
doorway  from  the  hall  lamp.  He  felt  stupid  and 
oddly  bewildered  from  the  reaction  of  his  ungovern- 


172  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

able  passion  and  overindulgence  in  brandy.  "What 
next  ?"  he  asked  of  the  patch  of  yellow  light,  trying 
to  formulate  an  answer  to  his  own  query. 

"I  am  sure  Eric  has  gone  to  a  physician,"  said 
Mrs.  Horine,  coming  in  so  noiselessly  as  to  startle 
the  man.  But  he  caught  at  the  words,  and  was 
hurrying  away  to  verify  the  hope,  when  a  boy  ran 
in  at  the  gate  with  a  message.  It  was  only  a  line, 
written  on  a  bit  of  wrapping  paper,  which  read : 

"Have  gone  on  midnight  train  to  seek  a  surgeon 
at  St.  Louis.  ERIC." 

The  Judge  hunted  up  a  time-table  and  studied  it 
carefully,  and  to  purpose.  The  local  freight  train 
passing  through  Payson  Bend  two  hours  later  car- 
ried him  westward  when  it  wound  around  the  foot  of 
Crown  Hill  on  its  way  to  the  not  far  distant  city. 

Three  days  passed  drearily  by,  each  bringing  a 
message  to  Mrs.  Horine  from  her  husband,  who  had 
not  found  Eric.  And  then  the  Judge  came  home, 
gaunt  and  haggard.  After  a  long  consultation  with 
his  wife,  they  closed  the  house  and  flitted  away  on 
the  midnight  train — the  one  that  had  borne  Eric 
away  that  other  memorable  night. 

In  the  meantime  other  scenes  in  the  Payson  Bend 
drama  were  being  enacted.  Other  actors  were  mak- 
ing mysterious  journeys  and  living  through  strange 
experiences.  And  above  all  else  of  momentary  im- 
portance to  the  general  welfare  of  the  community 
were  the  grewsome  shadows  of  death  that  be- 
leaguered the  town. 


XV. 
OTHER  JOURNEYS. 

THE  day  succeeding  the  debate  was  a  quiet  one 
at  the  cottage.  Miss  Lane  returned  to  Sam  Ritchie's 

for  the  day,  and  Robert  went  to  B to  interview 

the  quadroon  housekeeper  at  Colonel  Berkley's. 
Liberty  remained  alone,  depressed  and  anxious. 

Upon  reaching  the  town  hall  the  previous  even- 
ing Robert  had  found  it  impossible  to  gain  entrance 
without  forcing  his  way  through  a  crowd  of  eager 
listeners  that  blockaded  the  door.  Embarrassment 
decided  him  to  abandon  his  desire  to  learn  how  the 
issue  was  progressing,  and  he  returned  to  the  cot- 
tage. Before  retiring  he  wrote  a  respectful  with- 
drawal of  his  application  for  the  position  he  had 
coveted,  deciding  not  to  accept  it  whatever  the  re- 
sult of  the  meeting.  When  ready  to  start  to  B 

in  the  morning,  he  said  to  Liberty,  with  forced  cheer- 
fulness : 

"I  shall  be  back  to-night,  Liberty,  and  then  your 
troubles  will  begin.  I  intend  to  put  you  through 
your  p's  and  q's  at  a  rapid  rate." 

"I  'm  prepared  for  any  speed  you  choose,  Rob- 
ert," replied  the  girl,  brightly;  but  after  his  depar- 
ture the  light  faded  from  her  eyes.  She  had  detected 
the  keen  suffering  in  the  mentor  of  her  childhood 
173 


174  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  youth,  and  no  disguise  of  manner  could  blind 
her  loving  penetration. 

The  small  city  of  B was  only  a  few  miles 

from  Payson  Bend.  Robert  left  the  cottage  in  ample 
time  for  the  morning  train,  and  was  surprised  to 
find  Victory  Radcliffe  at  the  depot.  He  was  shocked 
at  her  haggard  face. 

"Why,  Victory,  are  you  off  on  a  journey?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  and  on  an  errand  similar  to  your  own,  I 
imagine.  I  did  n't  know  you  were  in  town,  Robert. 
You  must  have  come  in  last  night,"  replied  the  girl, 
wearily. 

"Yes,  I  came  last  night.  But  you  are  ill,  Vic- 
tory. You  are  not  fit  for  a  journey." 

"I  am  well  enough  physically.  I  am  on  my  way 
to  search  out  my  relatives  and  prove  my  ancestry. 
I  shall  not  rest  till  I  have  faced  the  utmost  horror  of 
the  truth.  O  Robert,  what  bitterness  fate  has  held 
in  reserve  for  you  and  me.  Aunt  Hilda  has  told  you 
of  my  grandmother's  confession,  no  doubt." 

"Not  a  word.  She  revealed  only  that  which 
affects  me.  What  have  you  to  do  with  that,  Victory  ? 
How  can  you  liken  any  trouble  of  yours  to  the  pain- 
ful discovery  that  has  come  to  me?" 

"By  a  strange  fatality  I  am  also  proven  to  be 
the  offspring  of  racial  admixture.  I  shall  know  the 
whole  truth  before  I  return  to  Payson  Bend." 

"Please  God,  there  is  some  grievous  mistake. 
You  bear  not  the  slightest  physical  hint  of  racial 
taint.  •  It  is  different  in  my  case." 


OTHER  JOURNEYS.  175 

"The  train  is  coming.  I  shall  have  a  lialf-hour 
in  which  to  tell  you  something  of  my  history  before 
you  reach  your  station,"  responded  Victory,  going 
forward  to  board  the  train. 

A  handsome,  olive-complexioned  woman  an- 
swered Robert  Lane's  ring  at  the  Berkley  residence. 
She  was  tall  and  shapely,  and  wore  her  plain  black 
dress,  white  collar,  and  apron  with  an  air  of  dig- 
nity. Her  eyes  met  Robert's  with  recognition  and 
startled  inquiry. 

The  young  man  noticed  the  look,  and  moreover 
the  woman  was  familiar  to  him.  He  knew  he  had 
seen  her  before,  and  stared  at  her  reflectively,  tracing 
in  her  face  a  certain  likeness  to  his  own  and  feeling 
intuitively  that  she  was  his  mother. 

"Are  you  Mrs.  Berkley's  housekeeper?"  he  asked 
at  last. 

"Yes.  Come  in,"  replied  the  woman,  compos- 
edly, leading  the  way  to  a  small  reception-room  at 
the  end  of  the  hall.  But  when  she  had  closed  the 
door  her  calmness  forsook  her.  She  had  read  her 
visitor's  mission  in  his  sorrowful  dark  eyes. 

"Robert,"  she  began  at  once,  "you  know  who 
I  am.  Did  your  information  come  from  Judge 
Horine  ?" 

"Indirectly,  yes.  The  story  is  true,  then  ?  There 
is  no  possible  mistake?" 

"Yes,  it  is  true  that  I  am  your  mother.  But  I 
have  suffered  much  to  keep  the  knowledge  from  you. 
Judge  Horine  has  betrayed  a  sacred  trust  wrung 


176  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

from  my  lips  at  a  moment  when  I  was  desperate 
with  longing  to  claim  you." 

"He  is  human.  A  critical  issue  impelled  him  to 
reveal  the  fact.  I  have  come  to  learn  the  whole 
truth.  I  know  nothing  aside  from  the  bare  fact 
that  I  am  your  son.  Your  word  and  that,"  said 
Robert,  pointing  to  the  mirror  in  which  both  faces 
were  reflected,  "is  sufficient  proof  of  my  relation 
to  you." 

"Yes,  you  resemble  me,  but  you  resemble  your 
father's  people  also.  I  was  considered  handsome  in 
my  youth,  and  was  alluring  and  passionate,  with 
enough  culture  to  make  me  entertaining.  My 
mother,  a  fine-looking  mulatto,  was  the  mistress  of 
a  white  planter,  and  I  was  reared  in  elegance  and 
ease.  My  father's  wife  died  a  few  months  before 
my  birth,  and  my  mother  was  given  control  of  the 
household.  My  education  began  when  I  was  very 
young — a  governess  taught  me  with  my  father's 
white  children — and  I  was  allowed  every  advantage 
given  the  other  children  at  home.  My  childhood 
was  happy ;  but  in  my  latest  teens  the  war  broke  out 
and  changed  everything.  My  father  was  killed  in 
the  army,  and  his  white  children  took  possession 
uf  the  property.  My  mother  was  shrewd,  and  dur- 
ing her  prosperous  days  had  managed  to  secure 
enough  money  to  fit  up  a  small  hotel,  which  paid 
fairly  well.  I  acted  the  lady,  and  made  the  place 
attractive  for  the  young  gentlemen  who  chose  to 
patronize  the  establishment.  Your  father  came 
oftenest  of  all.  He  was  infatuated  with  me,  and 


OTHER  JOURNEYS.  177 

finding  that  I  would  not  permit  his  advances  with- 
out marriage  he  made  me  his  wife,  and  took  me 
home  to  live  with  his  widowed  mother  on  the  family 
plantation." 

"Then  I  am  the  child  of  wedlock  ?"  asked  Robert, 
eagerly. 

"Yes.  At  least  I  believed  my  marriage  legal. 
I  have  been  virtuous  always,"  replied  the  woman, 
with  dignity. 

"Thank  God  for  that!  What  was  my  father's 
name  ?"  ' 

"Rupert  Radcliffe.     He  is  still  living,  I  think." 

"Rupert  Radcliffe !"  demanded  the  young  man, 
excitedly,  recalling  the  story  Victory  had  told  him 
an  hour  previously. 

"Yes,  Rupert  Radcliffe,  of  Nolville.  He  came 
of  a  fine  old  family." 

"Had  he  any  brothers?" 

"A  younger  brother,  Jason." 

Robert  stared  at  the  woman  absently  a  moment, 
but  refrained  from  mentioning  Victory,  surmising 
that  his  mother  was  unaware  of  the  girl's  existence. 
"You  were  saying  that  my  father  took  you  home  to 
the  family  plantation  when  I  interrupted  you,"  he 
said  presently. 

"Yes,  Rupert's  mother  was  a  proud  woman,  and 
refused  to  receive  me  as  her  son's  wife.  I  was  soon 
very  miserable,  and  Rupert,  growing  weary  of  my 
tears  and  complaints,  turned  against  me  and  de- 
clared our  marriage  illegal.  That  revelation  drove 
me  frantic,  and  I  ran  away  at  once,  determined  to 
12 


178  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

end  our  connection  forever.  I  came  North  and 
sought  out  my  old  governess,  with  whom  I  had 
frequently  exchanged  letters.  She  had  become  the 
wife  of  Colonel  Berkley,  and  received  me  kindly.  I 
told  her  my  troubles  and  she  took  me  to  a  private 
hospital,  where  I  remained  till  you  were  born  some 
weeks  later.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  destroy  you 
as  soon  as  I  could  get  an  opportunity.  I  did  not 
want  you  to  live  to  be  a  wretched  outcast.  You 
were  a  month  old  when  I  planned  your  death.  In 
the  meantime  I  had  grown  to  love  you  dearly.  I 
carried  you  to  the  creek  one  night,  intending  to 
drown  you.  Three  times  I  tied  weights  to  your 
little  body  and  held  you  out  over  the  water,  but  I 
could  not  let  go;  my  heart  failed  me.  At  last  I 
started  back  to  the  city;  but  it  was  very  dark  and 
I  lost  my  way.  I  finally  saw  a  large  house  sitting 
back  from  the  road,  and  thought  it  must  be  the  home 
of  wealthy  people.  I  thought  perhaps  they  would 
take  you  and  raise  you  as  their  own  child  without 
suspecting  your  ancestry — you  were  so  very  fair. 
I  crept  to  the  portico  and  laid  you  against  the  door, 
then  rang  the  bell  loudly,  and  ran  across  the  street 
and  hid  under  a  hedge.  I  waited  till  I  saw  a  light 
stream  out  of  the  door,  and  knew  they  had  found 
you.  I  came  to  Mrs.  Berkley,  and  told  her  I  had 
given  my  baby  away.  She  employed  me  at  once, 
and  I  have  been  in  her  service  ever  since.  But  I 
was  desolate  without  you,  and  soon  went  back  to 
the  large  house  to  reclaim  you.  I  discovered  that  it 
was  the  county  poorhouse,  and  without  betraying 


OTHER  JOURNEYS.  179 

my  secret  I  learned  that  Miss  Lane,  of  Payson  Bend, 
had  already  adopted  you.  I  heard  glowing  accounts 
of  your  benefactress,  and  it  seemed  selfish  to  think 
of  taking  you  away  from  a  home  where  you  would 
have  good  care  and  opportunities,  besides  growing 
up  without  the  stigma  of  your  race  to  cloud  your 
future.  I  tried  to  be  content,  but  at  times  my  long- 
ing for  you  nearly  drove  me  mad,  and  I  would  go  to 
Payson  Bend  and  steal  up  to  Miss  Lane's  bright 
little  sitting-room  window  at  night  and  watch  her 
while  she  rocked  you  to  sleep  as  tenderly  as  if  you 
were  her  own  child.  The  sight  always  comforted 
me  for  weeks  to  follow.  I  have  wished  a  hundred 
times  that  my  tongue  had  been  cut  off  before  I  be- 
trayed my  secret  to  Judge  Horine.  But  since  it  is 
too  late  to  prevent  the  evil  that  has  befallen  you,  let 
me  serve  you.  I  have  watched  your  life  carefully, 
and  give  Miss  Lane  credit  for  what  you  are,  for  I 
could  not  have  done  so  well  by  you.  I  have  done 
nothing  for  you  except  to  give  you  birth,  and  that 
was  a  sin  against  you.  I  will  crawl  at  your  feet  to 
help  you  now ;  nothing  will  be  too  hard,  only  show 
me  how  to  serve  you.  I  have  saved  my  earnings  for 
you.  Do  with  them  as  you  please." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Robert,  with  emotion.  "I 
do  n't  know  where  my  pathway  will  lead,  now  that 
my  former  plans  are  so  greatly  shaken ;  but  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  my  living,  never  fear.  Perhaps  you 
may  be  useful  to  me  in  ways  I  can  not  foresee  just 
now.  I  would  be  pleased  to  know  all  you  can  tell 
me  of  my  father's  family  and  of  your  own." 


i8o  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  can  give  you  little  information  of  the  Rad- 
cliffes  beyond  what  I  have  told  you,  and  scarcely 
more  of  my  own  ancestry.  My  grandmother  was 
a  full-blooded  African  slave  bought  by  my  father's 
father,  and  my  mother  had  a  white  father,  but  what 
particular  man  remains  unknown.  My  father  was, 
as  I  have  said,  a  white  planter.  1  know  nothing 
more  of  my  family,  but  the  blighting  presence  of 
Negro  blood  in  my  veins  has  ruined  my  life  and 
happiness.  I  have  inherited  longings  and  ambitions 
from  my  white  ancestors  that  have  battled  constantly 
against  the  curse  that  defiles  me.  My  soul  has  en- 
dured years  of  torture.  Life  will  be  a  difficult  prob- 
lem for  you.  too,  Robert ;  but  you  are  a  man  and  may 
surmount  obstacles  impossible  for  me  to  have  con- 
quered." 

Robert  returned  to  Payson  Bend  in  the  evening, 
worn  but  not  dismayed.  The  fire  of  a  lofty  spirit, 
wounded  and  shackled  but  undaunted,  shone  out 
of  his  fearless  dark  eyes  when  Miss  Lane  met  him 
at  the  cottage  door  and  took  his  hands  into  her 
loving  clasp. 

"Is  it  all  true,  Robert  ?"  she  asked,  with  pathetic 
eagerness,  unconsciously  betraying  a  hidden  hope 
that  some  one  had  made  a  mistake. 

"Yes.  But  what  of  that,  Aunty  ?  Is  n't  this  big, 
generous  world  willing  to  give  every  faithful  laborer 
his  lawful  hire?  Well,  my  faculties  are  normal,  my 
body  is  free  from  disease.  I  am  a  free  American 
citizen !  Do  n't  think  I  shall  allow  a  drop  of  blood 
to  crush  me,  or  make  a  coward  of  me." 


OTHER  JOURNEYS.  181 

"Sakes  alive,  Robert,  you  're  just  what  I  took 
you  to  be.  You  've  got  backbone,  and  if  a  body  's 
got  plenty  of  that  there  's  nothing  on  earth  can  get 
them  down  and  keep  them  down.  And  you  mind 
this,  Robert — God  didn't  let  things  get  in  such  a 
mess  without  mighty  good  reasons.  I  take  it  He  's 
at  the  head  of  things  yet,  and  knows  what 's  best. 
And  things  might  have  been  a  heap  worse  than  they 
are." 

"That 's  true  enough,  Aunty.  I  might  have 
grown  up  without  your  love  and  careful  training. 
You  have  taught  me  the  way  of  faith  and  hope." 

"I  can't  take  all  the  credit,  Robert.  I  tried  to 
head  you  right  and  keep  you  going  that  way,  but 
you  was  n't  fractious  or  hard  to  manage.  You  could 
see  the  right  from  the  wrong  mighty  easy  when  you 
was  a  mite  of  a  boy." 

"If  so,  it  was  you  who  taught  me  to  discrimi- 
nate. I  can  recall  times  when  less  loving  vigilance 
and  patience  would  have  left  me  weak  where  I  had 
need  of  strength.  You  molded  my  earliest  ideals 
from  sturdy  materials,  and  they  have  governed  me 
always." 

"It 's  mighty  pleasant  to  hear  you  talk  that  way, 
Robert.  Liberty  's  got  supper  ready,  so  we  '11  eat 
now ;  then  I  wish  you  'd  tell  about  your  jaunt  over  to 
B ,  and  what  you  found  out." 

"Certainly,  Aunty.  I  mean  to  .tell  you  and  Lib- 
erty the  whole  story,  but  it  must  go  no  further. 
There  are  a  few  things  I  do  not  wish  even  the  Pay- 
sons  to  know  at  present,  if  ever." 


1 8a  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Notwithstanding  the  withdrawal  of  his  appli- 
cation, several  efforts  were  made  to  persuade  Robert 
to  accept  the  position  he  had  formerly  desired.  He 
fully  appreciated  the  honor  tendered  him,  but  firmly 
refused  it.  He  could  not  foresee  any  good  to  come 
from  the  experiment,  and  as  a  mere  personal  triumph 
he  would  not  consider  it  for  a  moment. 

In  the  meantime  Robert  had  promptly  written 
an  account  of  his  discoveries  to  Flossie  Bruce,  who 
was  still  absent  from  home,  reserving  only  the  name 
of  his  father.  He  also  released  her  from  her  be- 
trothal vows.  Furthermore,  he  called  on  Captain 
Bruce  and  reported  his  action. 

Captain  Bruce  regretted  the  necessity  for  the 
rupture  of  the  engagement,  but  highly  commended 
the  movement,  and  frankly  declared  that  in  the  cir- 
cumstances he  could  never  consent  to  the  marriage. 
He  was  a  stanch  supporter  of  the  creed  that  rejects 
any  and  all  compromises  between  the  races. 

Robert  was  greatly  puzzled  over  the  absence  of 
Eric  Horine.  He  had  called  at  the  house  the  morn- 
ing after  the  town  hall  meeting,  but  Mrs.  Horine 
had  simply  announced  that  Eric  and  his  father  had 
both  gone  away  during  the  night,  and  that  the  time 
of  their  return  was  uncertain.  Something  in  the 
woman's  manner  forbade  questions,  and  Robert  had 
refrained  from  annoying  her  further.  But  it  grieved 
him  to  leave  without  seeing  his  lifelong  friend. 

On  Thursday  evening  Robert  Lane  set  his  face 
toward  the  South,  the  land  of  his  fathers.  A  half- 
hour  out  from  Payson  Bend  his  train  met  the  be- 


OTHER  JOURNEYS.  183 

lated  east-bound  passenger,  which  had  aboard  faith- 
ful Flossie  Bruce,  who  was  hastening  home  to  protest 
against  the  release  her  lover  had  forced  upon  her. 
But  neither  of  the  twain  felt  the  nearness  of  the 
other  as  they  swiftly  passed,  borne  in  opposite  direc- 
tions by  the  fiery-hearted  monsters  of  throbbing 
steam  and  fearful  power.  Still  that  was  not  strange, 
many  another  soul  has  escaped  its  complement  by 
so  little  as  a  hair's  breadth,  and  known  it  not.  And 
between  these  two,  whose  hearts  love  had  captured 
and  taught  to  thrill  in  unison,  there  was  more  than 
flight  and  muffled  vision,  or  passive  unconsciousness. 
The  stern  Nemesis  of  nature's  broken  law  had  inter- 
posed a  drop  of  blood  which,  swelling  into  a  bridge- 
less  torrent,  had  cruelly  slit  the  highway  of  love  and 
made  two  paths  of  one. 

Captain  Bruce  speedily  pronounced  his  mind  to 
Flossie,  who  seemingly  yielded  meekly  to  her  father's 
will.  And  wise  on-lookers,  mistaking  her  beautiful 
attitude  of  obedience  for  resignation,  smiled  and 
whispered  to  each  other,  "It  is  well  with  sweet 
Flossie  Bruce ;  she  is  forgetting." 

But  let  me  whisper  to  you,  kind  reader:  Into 
unchosen  paths  a  woman's  feet  may  be  set  against 
her  will  by  might  of  man  or  power  of  God ;  and  she 
may  follow  leadings  smilingly,  and  yield  to  drivings 
meekly;  but  be  not  deceived.  The  beloved  idol  of 
a  woman's  heart  can  never  be  dethroned  against  her 
will,  though  the  winding  sheet  of  hope  and  the 
mantle  of  pride  may  shroud  it  from  human  eyes 
forever. 


XVI. 
THE  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE. 

THE  affection  of  Andy  Peters  for  Victory  Rad- 
cliffe  since  her  babyhood  had  been  his  greatest 
source  of  pleasure.  Upon  her  he  had  lavished  the 
hidden  tenderness  of  his  thoughts,  and  the  fulfill- 
ment of  her  wishes  had  been  pleasant  laws.  As  it 
was  his  habit  to  consider  all  things  that  conflicted 
with  his  own  content  as  personal  grievances,  the 
revelation  that  had  brought  sorrow  to  Victory  ap- 
peared as  an  affront  to  himself  through  the  race  of 
his  hatred. 

For  several  days  after  the  meeting  at  the  town 
hall  there  was  a  steady  downpour  of  rain,  and  Andy 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  time  at  the  stable 
brooding  and  muttering.  Thursday  evening  being 
exceedingly  damp  and  chilly,  a  fire  had  been  kindled 
in  the  sitting-room,  and  Jerry  Payson  sat  in  the 
cheery  glow  singing  "My  country,  't  is  of  thee," 
quaveringly,  as  if  striving  to  warm  his  saddened 
spirit  in  the  fire  of  patriotism.  But  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  forget  that  Victory,  the  household's  pride 
and  darling,  was  absent  and  suffering.  It  was  diffi- 
cult to  sing  at  all,  but  the  old  soldier  was  struggling 
184 


THE;  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE;.        185 

manfully  toward  the  end  of  the  hymn,  when  Andy, 
who  was  hovering  close  to  the  fire  and  scowling 
with  smothered  rage,  suddenly  turned  upon  him, 
exclaiming : 

"I  should  think  you  'd  get  done  singing  about 
sweet  liberty  and  the  like,  now  you  've  had  the  devil- 
ment of  them  pesky  niggers  you  helped  set  free 
brought  home  to  you  plenty  plain  to  see  what 's 
come  of  it !  If  they  had  n't  been  running  loose  all 
over  the  country  Lina  wouldn't  have  been  fooled 
into  marrying  one,  and  Victory  would  n't  be  next 
thing  to  crazy  over  what 's  come  down  to  her." 

"You  '11  have  to  blame  the  white  folks  that  are 
mixed  up  in  the  mess,  Andy.  If  Jason  Radcliffe 
had  n't  been  more  white  than  black,  Lina  would  n't 
have  been  fooled.  The  mixing  was  done  before  the 
niggers  got  free.  You  '11  have  to  blame  the  white 
men,  not  their  slaves,  for  the  beginning  of  the 
trouble.  I  'd  fight  just  the  same  if  I  had  to  do  it 
over  again,  and  I  reckon  I  '11  keep  on  singing  the 
songs  of  freedom  and  sweet  liberty  till  I  'm  done 
with  this  world." 

"Looks  like  you  have  n't  a  mite  of  pity  for  Vic- 
tory!" snapped  Andy,  fiercely,  rising  to  fling  some 
fresh  chips  on  the  fire,  and  then  facing  about  again. 

"Pity  ?  That  is  n't  the  right  word  for  my  feel- 
ings, Andy.  I  've  ached  and  ached  for  the  poor  girl 
till  I  'm  a  jag  of  pains  inside.  But  I  don't  blame 
Victory's  trouble  on  the  Land  of  the  Free.  It 's  got 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 


1 86  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"It 's  got  something  to  do  with  the  cussed  nig- 
gers !  You  're  a  fool,  Jerry,  or  you  'd  own  up  to 
it  that  old  Abe  better  have  been  hung  before  he 
emancipated  them." 

"Never,  Andy,  while  I  've  got  breath  to  yell ! 
Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes !" 

"But  drat  the  niggers !"  roared  Andy,  furiously, 
raising  his  pipe  and  bringing  it  down  upon  Jerry 
Payson's  head  with  terrific  force. 

With  a  low  moan  the  old  soldier  sank  down  in 
his  chair,  a  nerveless  heap.  The  bowl  of  the  earthen 
pipe  had  struck  his  temple  sharply  enough  to  stun 
him,  and  inflict  several  small  wounds  as  the  pottery 
crushed.  Blood  gushed  from  the  cuts,  and  Hilda 
Lane,  who  opened  the  door  at  that  moment,  hastened 
forward,  astonished  and  horrified.  Andy,  instantly 
repentant,  bent  over  the  unconscious  patriot,  frantic 
with  fright  and  remorse. 

"Do  n't  die,  Jerry !  O  lordy,  Jerry,  do  n't  die !" 
he  cried. 

"You  tell  Peggy  to  come  here,  and  then  run  for 
the  doctor,  Andy !"  commanded  Miss  Lane,  support- 
ing the  wounded  man's  head  against  her  shoulder 
while  she  stanched  the  flow  of  blood  with  her  apron. 

"Jerry,  Jerry,  do  n't  you  hear  ?  Do  n't  die  with- 
out forgiving  what  I  've  done  against  you !"  wailed 
Andy,  pathetically. 

"If  you  want  Jerry  to  live,  why  don't  you  help 
things  along?  Tell  Peggy  to  come  here,  and  then 


THE  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE.        187 

do  n't  waste  any  time  on  the  road  to  the  doctor's !" 
demanded  Miss  Lane. 

"O  lordy,  lordy !"  moaned  Andy,  running  out 
of  the  house  and  down  the  wet  driveway,  unmindful 
of  rheumatic  pains  as  he  hobbled  along  the  street 
through  the  rain  to  Dr.  Hilton's  office,  where  he 
paused  only  to  gasp: 

"Come  to  Jerry's  lickity  split,  Doctor !  He  's 
dying — bleeding  to  death  !  O  lordy !" 

It  seemed  remarkable  that  so  small  a  weapon 
had  wrought  such  disaster,  but  the  force  had  fallen 
on  a  vital  spot  and  the  injured  man  revived  from  his 
first  slight  swoon  only  to  sink  into  another  of  longer 
duration.  Dr.  Hilton  did  not  speak  hopefully,  and 
Andy  Peters,  frenzied  with  fear  that  his  fiendish 
act  had  sent  his  best  friend  beyond  recall,  spent  most 
of  the  night  roaming  about  the  rain-swept  premises, 
groaning  and  murmuring. 

Liberty  came  over  from  the  cottage  during  the 
evening  to  offer  her  services ;  but  the  doctor  had  re- 
turned to  remain  till  morning  with  his  patient,  and 
giving  the  girl  his  lantern — for  it  was  very  dark — 
advised  her  to  go  home  and  sleep  so  as  to  be  fresh 
for  the  next  night  if  she  should  be  needed.  As  she 
passed  outside,  Liberty's  attention  was  arrested  by 
the  peculiar  utterances  of  Andy  coming  from  an  ex- 
cavation recently  dug  for  a  vegetable  cellar,  and 
fearing  that  he  had  fallen  into  it  and  injured  him- 
self she  approached  the  place,  holding  up  her  lantern 
and  peering  into  the  darkness  below.  Andy  was 


1 88  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

kneeling  in  the  watery  basin  with  clasped  hands  and 
face  upturned  in  the  rain,  lost  in  the  throes  of  suppli- 
cation. 

"Let  Jerry  live,  God  A'mighty!"  he  was  be- 
seeching. "Let  Jerry  live,  and  I  '11  quit  cussing  the 
niggers!"  And  then  the  light  of  Liberty's  lantern 
flashed  upon  him,  and  he  opened  his  eyes  and  blinked 
up  at  her  wondering  face  a  moment  rather  dazedly, 
before  he  scrambled  out  of  the  pit  howling  angrily : 
"The  devil  take  the  niggers !  Get  away  from  here 
you  pesky  black  nigger !" 

The  girl,  not  the  least  alarmed,  sped  on  her  way 
without  a  word;  but  drenched,  chilled,  and  miser- 
able, the  man  watched  the  light  of  her  swinging  lan- 
tern as  she  fled  through  the  inky  night  toward  the 
friendly  shelter  of  the  cottage,  mumbling  to  him- 
self: 

"The  whole  creation  's  against  me !  I  can't  get 
down  low  and  humble  to  ask  a  favor  of  the  Al- 
mighty, without  a  nigger  trots  up  to  aggravate  me. 
I  did  n't  get  my  say  out,  and  what  I  did  get  out  is 
spoiled,  I  reckon." 

Toward  morning  Miss  Lane  came  out  and  found 
the  man  still  hobbling  around  in  the  chill  darkness. 

"Andy,"  she  said,  with  quiet  severity,  "if  you  're 
done  chasing  the  old  Harry  round  in  the  mud,  you  'd 
best  come  in.  Ellen  has  built  a  fire  in  your  room 
and  put  some  dry  clothes  to  warm  for  you.  You  'd 
best  get  into  your  dry  things  as  quick  as  you  can, 
so  you  '11  be  fit  to  go  into  Jerry's  room.  He  's  come 
to  his  senses,  and  he  asked  for  you  first  thing." 


THE  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE.       189 

"O  lordy!"  cried  the  man,  joyfully,  slouching 
into  the  house  and  hitching  up  the  stairs  with  pain- 
ful haste.  "I  reckon  that  prayer  was  n't  spoilt  after 
all.  I  mind  now  I  did  n't  say  just  when  I  'd  quit 
cussing  the  niggers,  drat  them!"  But  his  spirits 
fell  when  he  came  down  to  Jerry's  room;  for  the 
wounded  man,  again  unconscious,  lay  with  ghastly 
face  and  dulled  senses,  unheeding  the  hoarsely 
whispered : 

"O  lordy,  don't  die,  Jerry!  Don't  die  without 
forgiving  me  all  I  've  done  against  you !  Jerry, 

0  Jerry !" 

"Be  still,  Andy,  or  you  '11  have  to  go  out  of 
here,"  said  Hilda  Lane.  Her  own  face  was  almost 
as  pallid  as  the  one  on  the  pillow,  but  she  gave  no 
other  sign  of  the  anxiety  she  was  bearing. 

Too  restless  to  sit  still,  Andy  dragged  himself 
back  upstairs  to  his  room,  where  he  cowered  over 
the  fire  for  awhile,  quaking  with  fear  and  chilliness. 
Miss  Lane  sent  up  Ellen,  the  kitchen  maid,  with  a 
cup  of  hot  tea,  but  the  girl  soon  hastened  back, 
saying : 

"I  'm  afraid  Andy 's  gone  stark  mad,  Miss  Lane. 
He  was  n't  in  his  room,  but  I  heard  him  stumbling 
up  the  garret  stairs  and  slipped  up  to  see  what  he 
was  doing,  and  there  he  was  climbing  out  of  the 
cubby  hole  in  the  roof.  I  'm  afraid  he  's  going  to 
jump  off  and  kill  himself.  I  wish  you  'd  go  up  and 
stop  him.  I  'm  too  scart  of  him." 

"Sakes  alive,  Ellen,  if  he  's  bound  to  jump  off 

1  don't  know  as  I  could  hinder  him.    But  I'll  go 


HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

up  and  see  what 's  to  be  done.  The  doctor 's  with 
Jerry  now." 

Miss  Lane  went  up  to  the  garret,  but  paused  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder  leading  to  the  trap  door  in 
the  roof,  through  which  the  rain  was  drizzling.  She 
could  hear  Andy's  voice,  desperately  beseeching: 
"Let  Jerry  live,  God  A'mighty,  and  I '11  quit  cuss- 
ing the  niggers  from  this  day  on.  Maybe  You  let 
him  get  worse  again  because  I  did  n't  say  just  when 
I  'd  stop  cussing  the  niggers.  I  '11  leave  off  this 
minute  if  you  '11  let  Jerry  come  to  his  senses  and 
get  well.  O  lordy,  let  Jerry  live,  God  A'mighty! 
The  whole  world  's  against  me  but  him !" 

Hilda  Lane  wiped  her  eyes  and  motioned  Ellen 
to  follow  her  downstairs,  where  she  said :  "I  do  n't 
feel  called  to  meddle  with  Andy,  Ellen.  He  's  driven 
to  pray  it  seems,  and  has  n't  any  notion  of  jumping 
off  the  housetop.  I  hate  to  have  him  up  there  in 
the  rain  and  cold,  but  I  mind  his  mother  was  just 
that  queer  acting  about  praying.  She  'lowed  it 
did  n't  look  sensible  to  pray  inside  of  a  house  with 
laths  and  plaster  and  shingles  and  what  not  between 
a  body  and  God.  She  'lowed  He  'd  be  put  to  it  hard 
enough  to  hear  so  far  off,  anyhow.  I  do  n't  lean  to 
that  way  of  thinking  myself.  I  take  it  if  a  body's 
heart  is  set  heavenwards  and  open  to  God,  there  's 
no  sort  of  hindrance  that  can  shut  Him  off  from 
what 's  prayed  to  Him.  I  reckon  Andy  will  come 
down  when  he  gets  his  satisfaction.  His  mother 
was  a  praying  woman  and  lived  according  to  her 


THE  BREAKING  OF  ANOTHER  PIPE.        191 

light,  and  I  take  it  the  children  of  such  as  that  are 
bound  to  come  to  their  knees  sooner  or  later.  It 
does  look  wild  notioned  for  him  to  get  on  top  of 
the  house  in  the  rain  when  all  out  door  is  free  to 
him ;  but  we  can't  judge  him,  and  so  you  'd  best  not 
pester  him.  Maybe  you  'd  as  well  fix  up  his  fire 
again,  and  when  he  comes  down  fetch  him  another 
cup  of  hot  tea." 


XVII. 
LIBERTY  DESPARD'S  CALL. 

THE;  week  ushered  in  by  the  unhappy  debate  be- 
tween Judge  Horine  and  his  son  at  the  town  hall 
was  one  of  peculiar  misfortune,  not  only  to  the  fam- 
ilies clustered  around  the  Payson  corner-stone,  but 
to  the  community  in  general.  Friday,  the  day  after 
Andy's  attack  on  Jerry  Payson,  chanced  to  be  the 
day  following  Robert  Lane's  departure  for  the  South, 
and  was  also  the  day  of  Judge  Horine's  return  from 
his  search  for  Eric,  to  bear  his  wife  away  so  mys- 
teriously. Furthermore,  that  particular  Friday  was 
the  date  of  an  important  consultation  of  the  medical 
staff  of  the  town  over  several  suspicious  cases  of 
illness  that  had  closely  succeeded  a  three  weeks' 
epidemic  of  a  mild  eruptive  fever  that  had  raged  in 
and  about  Payson  Bend.  On  Saturday  a  number 
of  red  cards  bearing  a  specific  signal  were  placed  on 
the  houses  where  the  suspicious  cases  were  located. 
On  Sunday  a  dozen  new  cases  were  reported,  and 
several  deaths  recorded.  The  churches  were  closed, 
and  the  news  was  circulated  that  a  malignant  form 
of  smallpox  was  well  established  in  Payson  Bend. 

The  people  were  immediately  panicstricken. 
Householders  closed  their  doors  and  windows 
192 


LIBERTY  DESPARD'S  CALL.  193 

against  the  disease-laden  atmosphere,  and  made  hur- 
ried preparations  to  leave  town.  The  afternoon 
trains  bore  away  a  crowd  of  frightened  women  and 
children,  and  many  more  were  completing  arrange- 
ments for  departure  the  next  day,  but  on  Monday 
morning  the  proclamation  went  forth  that  escape 
was  cut  off.  Payson  Bend  had  been  placed  under 
quarantine. 

A  fearful  war  between  life  and  death  was  waged 
during  the  next  six  weeks,  and  Crown  Hill  was 
wounded  almost  daily  to  receive  new  tenants  under 
its  greensward.  The  physicians  labored  ceaselessly 
against  fearful  odds,  and  were  utterly  disheartened 
over  the  meager  help  they  were  able  to  secure. 
There  were  no  resident  trained  nurses ;  people  yet 
unaffected  were  afraid  to  expose  themselves  to  the 
dreadful  disease,  and  it  was  impossible  to  obtain 
efficient  help  from  abroad.  Several  persons  who  had 
survived  the  malady  in  former  years  willingly  lent 
their  services,  but  the  urgent  demand  for  nurses  of 
any  kind  was  far  beyond  the  supply. 

Hilda  Lane  was  fully  employed  in  helping  the 
Paysons,  and  in  daily  visits  to  care  for  Mrs.  Ritchie, 
who  was  still  quite  ill.  But  the  kind-hearted  woman, 
who  was  already  denying  herself  needful  rest, 
thought  it  possible  to  do  with  still  less  sleep,  and  so 
offered  to  give  an  hour  or  two  each  morning  to  the 
service  of  Dr.  Hilton;  but  he  forbade  her  to  go 
near  the  contagion  lest  she  carry  infection  to  those 
who  had  the  first  claim  to  her  care. 

The  havoc  of  death  was  appalling.  One  morning 
13 


194  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Dr.  Hilton  paused  to  have  a  word  with  a  friend, 
who  was  watching  an  undertaker  load  some  coffins 
into  his  wagon  for  delivery,  and  after  some  conver- 
sation remarked: 

"I  would  consider  it  a  direct  Godsend  if  I  could 
get  hold  of  even  one  thoroughly  reliable  nurse  to 
place  in  charge  of  my  worst  cases  during  the  critical 
stages  of  the  disease." 

Liberty  Despard  was  approaching  the  pair,  carry- 
ing a  basket  of  dainties  which  Miss  Lane 'had  pre- 
pared for  some  of  her  pensioners.  Halting  beside 
the  harassed  physician  she  said: 

"You  are  in  great  need  of  nurses,  Doctor.  If 
there  are  any  among  your  patients  who  would  be 
willing  to  take  me,  I  am  ready  to  serve  them.  I 
am  conscious  of  a  clear  call  from  God  to  the  work, 
and  besides,  I  want  to  do  it  for  Aunt  Hilda's  sake. 
I  believe  God  has  called  me  in  her  stead,  for  her 
heart  is  breaking  to  do  something  for  the  sick  that 
are  without  proper  care.  I  think  you  can  trust  me 
to  carry  out  your  directions  faithfully,  and  I  have 
my  white  dresses,  caps,  aprons,  and  other  wearing 
apparel  packed  ready  to  leave  home  at  a  moment's 
notice." 

Utterly  taken  aback  at  the  unexpected  offer  from 
one  who  had  little  reason  for  self-sacrifice  to  the 
Payson  Bend  people,  Dr.  Hilton  stood  silent  for 
a  moment,  staring  at  a  streamer  of  crape  fluttering 
from  a  doorknob  across  the  street.  Then  he  sum- 
moned courage  to  meet  the  girl's  inquiring  eyes, 
and  asked : 


LIBERTY  DESPARD'S  CALL.  195 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Miss  Lane  about  this?" 

"Yes.  The  call  came  to  me  night  before  last, 
and  I  told  her  about  it  yesterday." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

Liberty  smiled,  but  glanced  above  the  steeple  of 
the  church  near  by,  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  re- 
minded Dr.  Hilton  of  the  scene  he  witnessed  in 
Miss  Lane's  hayloft  twenty  years  before. 

"Aunt  Hilda  is  odd,  you  know,  Doctor.  She 
did  n't  appear  to  hear  what  I  said,  but  slipped  off 
upstairs  to  her  room  for  awhile.  When  she  came 
down  again  she  merely  said,  'I  take  it  God  's  at  the 
head  of  things,  Liberty,  and  if  you  feel  called  to 
help  the  folks  of  Payson  Bend  in  this  awful  pinch, 
I  won't  lay  a  straw  in  your  way.' " 

"God  bless  that  woman !"  exclaimed  the  phy- 
sician, finding  sudden  need  of  his  handkerchief. 
"She  's  got  the  biggest  heart  ever  put  into  a  woman's 
body,  I  believe.  I  appreciate  your  unselfish  offer, 
Liberty,  and  gladly  accept  it.  I  shall  want  you  to 
make  my  house  your  headquarters.  I  will  drive  to 
the  cottage  to  get  you  and  your  clothes  whenever  it 
is  convenient  for  you  to  come." 

"That  will  be  in  an  hour,  Doctor,"  replied  the 
girl,  softly. 

Barely  two  hours  later  Liberty  Despard  was  in- 
stalled at  the  bedside  of  Mr.  Hodge,  whose  wife  lay 
coffined  for  burial,  and  who  was  himself  in  a  critical 
stage  of  the  loathsome  disease,  with  only  a  deaf  and 
very  incompetent  old  woman  in  the  house  to  serve 
him.  Fevered  and  delirious,  the  sick  man  gazed  at 


196  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

his  new  nurse  when  he  first  discovered  her,  and  roll- 
ing his  swollen  tongue  about,  muttered  thickly : 

"Your  chair  is  at  the  rear  of  the  pews,  Liberty. 
What  are  you  doing  up  here  in  front?" 

"Well,  you  see  the  church  is  quite  empty  now, 
Mr.  Hodge,"  the  tactful  girl  replied,  soothingly. 
"I  '11  take  my  own  seat  when  I've  made  you  more 
comfortable.  Swallow  this  medicine  now,  and  then 
I  '11  put  a  fresh  compress  on  your  face  to  ease  its 
burning."  And  thus  the  brave  girl  began  her  patient 
ministries. 

Liberty  Despard  had  inherited  her  mother's 
dusky  beauty,  and  being  always  scrupulously  neat 
in  her  person  and  attire,  was  a  wholesome  and  pleas- 
ant presence  in  the  sick-room.  Her  voice  was  soft 
and  musical,  her  touch  tender  and  magnetic,  and  her 
ready  tact,  vigilance,  and  perfect  obedience  to  direc- 
tions made  her  an  invaluable  dependence  for  the 
physician. 

For  five  weeks  the  demand  upon  the  services  of  the 
once  despised  negro  girl  was  constant.  It  was,  to  say 
the  least,  a  remarkable  coincident  that  wherever  she 
nursed  life  came  out  conqueror  over  death.  This 
fact  being  marked  by  her  former  enemies  turned  the 
tide  of  public  favor  toward  her.  The  sick  speedily 
clamored  for  her  presence,  in  the  vague  belief  that 
she  alone  could  pilot  them  safely  through  the  dan- 
gers of  their  malady. 

But  there  is  always  a  limit  to  physical  endur- 
ance. The  young  nurse  grew  thin  and  haggard  from 
loss  of  sleep,  and  from  the  prolonged  strain  of  un- 


LIBERTY  DESPARD'S  CAU,.  197 

usual  responsibilities.  When  the  last  severe  case 
was  safely  through  the  critical  stage  the  faithful 
girl  swooned  at  her  tasks  one  morning,  and,  greatly 
concerned  over  her  condition,  Dr.  Hilton  took  her 
to  his  own  home  and  sent  for  Miss  Lane,  who  had 
not  seen  Liberty  since  she  left  the  cottage  to  begin 
nursing. 

"I  '11  take  Liberty  home  right  now,"  said  Miss 
Lane,  when  the  Doctor  had  explained  his  fears  that 
overstrain  had  brought  on  a  serious  degree  of  nerv- 
ous prostration  that  would  be  extremely  difficult  to 
manage,  even  if  time  did  not  prove  the  girl  to  be  in 
the  incipient  stage  of  the  scourge  to  which  she  had 
been  so  long  exposed.  "I  've  felt  heavy-hearted 
about  Liberty,  and  I  've  got  everything  ready  to  do 
my  best  by  her.  The  Paysons  do  n't  need  me  now, 
and  Mrs.  Ritchie  is  up  and  about  again." 

"I  would  much  rather  keep  her  here,  Miss  Lane," 
said  the  physician,  earnestly.  "I  owe  the  girl  every 
care  and  attention.  I  feel  reproached  that  I  did  not 
suspect  her  condition  in  time  to  prevent  this  com- 
plete breakdown.  But  she  has  labored  along  so 
energetically  and  uncomplainingly  that  I  was  de- 
ceived, and  failed  to  notice  that  her  vitality  was  so 
nearly  exhausted." 

"Yes,  I  understand  how  you  feel,  but  I  want  my 
girl  home  now,"  insisted  Miss  Lane.  "She  '11  be 
happier  to  come  to  her  senses  in  her  own  room.  I  've 
stood  in  place  of  a  mother  to  her,  and  know  best  how 
to  make  her  comfortable.  You  can  do  for  her  there 
the  same  as  here  as  far  as  doctoring  goes,  you  know. 


198  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

I  want  to  do  my  share  for  her,  and  that 's  best  done 
at  home.  Things  might  have  been  worse,  I  reckon, 
and  God  's  at  the  head  of  things,  I  take  it.  We  '11 
have  to  trust  to  Him  to  do  what 's  best." 

And  so  Liberty,  unconscious  of  the  consternation 
that  chilled  the  town  at  the  news  of  her  collapse, 
oblivious  of  the  stream  of  distressed  friends  that 
flooded  the  cottage  at  all  hours  with  anxious  in- 
quiries concerning  her,  and  unaware  that  heaven  was 
besieged  with  prayers  for  her  recovery  by  those  she 
had  served  so  well,  lay  in  the  shadow  of  death. 

Perhaps  of  the  many  that  implored  the  Omnipo- 
tent to  restore  Liberty  Despard  to  health  none 
prayed  so  constantly  and  fervently  as  Mr.  Hodge, 
one  of  the  members  of  the  committee  that  had  once 
sought  to  banish  the  Negro  infant  from  the  borders 
of  Payson  Bend.  For  Mr.  Hodge  firmly  believed 
that  through  Divine  favor  he  owed  his  life  to  his 
dusky  nurse.  And  he  was  but  one  of  many  that  felt 
the  same  measure  of  indebtedness  to  her. 


XVIII. 

AT  THE  RADCLIFFE  PLANTATION 
HOUSE. 

THE;  inhabitants  of  Nolville,  a  sleepy,  little 
Southern  town,  were  scarcely  aroused  to  the  neces- 
sary labors  of  the  day  when  Victory  Radcliffe 
alighted  from  the  morning  train  after  a  wearisome 
journey,  and  allowed  Rush,  an  aggressive  Negro 
lad,  to  conduct  her  to  a  hotel.  After  such  refresh- 
ment as  the  place  afforded,  the  girl  made  a  few  in- 
quiries of  her  host,  a  ponderous  and  talkative  speci- 
men of  his  class. 

"Will  you  please  direct  me  to  the  Radcliffe  resi- 
dence ?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  of  co'se,  of  co'se  I  will,  Miss !  Just  say 
which  one — Mistah  Rupe't's  or  the  old  Missus'?" 

"Is  the  old  lady  Mr.  Rupert's  mother?" 

"Shuah,  and  a  high-blooded  old  lady  she  is.  She 
set  the  pace  for  the  nabobs  round  her  befo'  the  wah." 

"I  think  I  will  go  to  her  house.     Where  is  it?" 

"It 's  a  mile  and  mo'  from  town.  I  '11  take  you 
there  and  back  fo'  a  dollah." 

"I  prefer  to  walk." 

"Shuah.  Well,  then  follah  this  road  down  the 
hill,  and  up  and  down  two  mo'  hills,  and  half  way  up 
199 


200  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  next  you  '11  come  to  a  big  gate  with  stone  posts 
topped  off  with  stone  balls,  on  the  right  side  of  the 
road.  You  turn  in  there,  and  you  '11  be  on  the  Rad- 
cliffe  plantation.  Just  follah  the  straight  road,  with 
the  big  trees  on  each  side,  till  you  come  to  a  musta'd- 
colored  house — that 's  Mistah  Rupe't's — and  then 
keep  on  through  the  cotton-field  till  you  come  to  the 
house  with  the  west  chimney  off  even  with  the  roof 
and  the  east  chimney  badly  sagged.  That 's  the  big 
house  where  the  old  Missus  lives.  It  was  a  fine  place 
befo'  the  wah.  Yes,  Ma'am!  The  front  of  the 
house  is  polished  stone,  and  the  pillahs  of  the  po'ch 
are  ma'ble.  Nothing  like  it  in  the  country  round 
heah,  but  it 's  on  its  last  pegs  now,  and  so  is  the  old 
Missus.  She  lives  there  with  two  free  niggahs  now ; 
but  befo'  the  wah  the  place  swa'med  with  slaves  and 
the  majah  had  money  to  smoke." 

"Thank  you  for  your  information,  sir,"  said  Vic- 
tory, breaking  into  the  man's  reminiscent  mood,  and 
starting  on  her  way. 

For  some  unaccountable  reason  the  girl's  spirits 
rose  as  she  walked  briskly  along  the  highway  after 
leaving  the  town  behind  her.  Even  the  weeds  that 
fringed  the  path,  the  gullied  hills,  and  rickety  fences 
were  suggestive  and  entertaining.  The  merry  birds, 
too,  seemed  to  pursue  her  and  awake  her  to  the  fact 
that,  in  spite  of  hampering  misfortunes,  she  was  yet 
young  and  healthy  with  every  faculty  alive,  a  great 
world  for  a  habitation,  and  the  future  before  her. 

The  way  so  plainly  described  by  her  host  did 
not  seem  long  to  Victory,  who  entered  the  Radcliffe 


PLANTATION  HOUSE;.          201 


domain  sooner  than  she  had  anticipated,  and  traced 
her  way  to  the  old  plantation  house  without  diffi- 
culty. But  although  the  morning  was  warm  and 
sultry,  the  front  windows  of  the  house  were  closed, 
as  was  the  door  also.  Repeated  knocking  brought 
no  response.  The  visitor  did  not  mean  to  be  easily 
daunted,  however,  and  made  her  way  around  to  a 
side  door  which  stood  open.  A  middle-aged  negress 
came  from  a  rear  room  at  the  first  knock. 

"Fo',  de  Lawd's  sake  !"  she  exclaimed,  when  she 
saw  Victory.  "I  s'pect  yo'se  got  lost,  ain'  yo', 
honey  ?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  replied  the  girl,  pleasantly. 
"I  have  called  to  see  Mrs.  Radcliffe." 

"I'se  'fraid  yo'se  gwine  be  dis'pointed  den.  De 
cl'  Missus  do  n't  nebah  see  comp'ny,"  responded  the 
woman,  in  soft,  drawling  tones  of  regret. 

"But  it  is  very  necessary  for  me  to  see  her. 
Please  tell  her  that  I  have  come  many  miles  to  speak 
with  her.  Perhaps  she  will  make  an  exception  of 
my  case." 

"I'se  'fraid  not,  honey,  but  I  '11  go  and  ax  huh. 
Yo'  des  come  in  and  take  a  seat  by  de  window  a 
HT  while." 

When  the  girl  was  seated  the  negress  approached 
her  with  a  tarnished  silver  tray,  holding  it  out  and 
smiling  insinuatingly.  Victory  was  slightly  puzzled 
for  an  instant,  but,  without  betraying  herself,  quickly 
drew  a  card  from  her  purse  and  laid  it  on  the  salver. 
The  card  bore  the  simple  inscription  of  "Victory 
Radcliffe." 


202  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

The  apartment  into  which  the  visitor  had  been 
ushered  was  the  dining-room  of  the  once  stately 
mansion.  A  cavernous  fireplace  yawned  under  a 
huge  mantel.  The  heavy  woodwork,  massive  furni- 
ture, and  worn  floor  were  thickly  covered  with  dust, 
and  the  walls  were  black  with  smoke  stains.  The 
air  was  tainted  with  the  odor  of  tobacco,  and  Victory 
leaned  out  of  the  window  to  inhale  the  fragrance  of 
a  jasmine  outside. 

In  the  meantime  the  negress  had  entered  the 
private  room  of  her  mistress  and  announced : 

"Yo'se  got  comp'ny,  Missus.  I'se  mos'  skeert 
ob  de  young  Miss.  She  's  de  libing  hant  ob  yo'se'f 
in  de  big  frame  long  side  ob  Massa  Radcliffe,  in  de 
lib'ry." 

"But  you  know  I  never  receive  any  visitors  ex- 
cept Colonel  Whitmore,  Dosie,"  said  Mrs.  Radcliffe, 
impatiently,  putting  on  her  spectacles  and  taking  the 
card  from  the  salver.  "Victory  Radcliffe !"  she  mur- 
mured, half  startled.  "Where  is  she  from,  Dosie?" 

"She  des  'low  she  come  f'om  fa'  off." 

"Is  she  genteel  looking?" 

"I  tol'  yo'  she  's  de  libing  hant  ob  yo'se'f  in  yo' 
young  days !" 

"Then  get  out  my  black  silk  and  my  best  lace 
collar,  Dosie,"  commanded  the  old  lady,  with  bright- 
ening eyes. 

The  dressing  process  was  slow  and  difficult.  But 
a  woman  who  has  once  been  a  beautiful  society 
leader  never  ceases  to  thrill  at  the  remembrance. 
Mrs.  Radcliffe,  stricken  with  sorrow  and  age,  was 


PLANTATION  House.  203 

inspired  to  receive  her  young  visitor  by  Dosie's 
meager  but  significant  description  of  her. 

"Is  my  hair  becomingly  arranged?"  asked  the 
old  lady  when  her  toilet  was  nearing  completion. 

"It  looks  lubly!"  declared  the  woman. 

"Then  you  may  get  the  small  morocco  case  out 
of  that  left-hand  drawer.  I  shall  wear  my  diamond 
brooch.  The  major  always  liked  me  to  wear  a 
jewel.  A  valuable  one  speaks  for  itself  and  lends 
dignity  to  the  wearer.  I  am  ready  now.  Give  me 
your  arm  and  help  me  downstairs  very  carefully, 
Dosie." 

"Des  laik  yo'  was  a  wax  candle,  Missus!"  re- 
plied the  faithful  attendant. 

Victory  rose  when  she  heard  steps  coming  near 
the  dining-room  and  went  forward  to  meet  Mrs. 
Radcliffe. 

"I  am  pleased  to  see  you,"  asserted  the  old  lady, 
with  hospitable  dignity,  holding  herself  erect  with 
an  effort,  and  keenly  surveying  her  young  guest. 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  receive  me,  Mrs.  Rad- 
cliffe. I  am  grateful  beyond  words,"  replied  Victory. 

"Go  and  open  the  windows  of  the  library,  Dosie. 
We  will  sit  there,"  directed  the  old  lady,  leading  the 
way  to  the  once  magnificent  room,  and  going  directly 
to  the  life-size  portraits  of  herself  and  husband,  taken 
in  the  heydey  of  prosperity  and  happiness. 

"Dar!  What  I  tol'  yo',  Missus?"  cried  the 
negress. 

''You  may  go  now,  Dosie,"  remarked  Mrs.  Rad- 


2O4  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

cliffe,  facing  about  and  motioning  her  guest  to  a 
chair  as  she  seated  herself. 

"Are  you  visiting  at  my  son's?"  she  asked  of 
Victory. 

"No,  ma'am.  I  arrived  at  Nolville  on  the  morn- 
ing train  and  came  directly  here  from  Nolville.  I 
walked." 

"Indeed?  But  where  is  your  home,  and  what 
particular  branch  of  the  Radcliffe  family  do  you  rep- 
resent ?" 

"That  is  what  I  have  come  many  miles  to  de- 
termine. Will  you  pardon  my  presumption,  and 
kindly  furnish  me  with  the  information  I  desire?" 

"Certainly,  my  dear,  if  I  can." 

"Did  you  once  own  a  slave  so  white  that  no  one 
would  have  suspected  his  Negro  blood?  A  man 
known  by  the  name  of  Jason  Radcliffe?" 

"No.  But  my  youngest  son  was  named  Jason. 
We  owned  a  black  slave  who  was  known  as  Black 
Jas,  because  of  his  devotion  to  my  son  Jason  in  his 
childhood,  from  whom  he  could  hardly  endure  an 
hour's  separation.  He  and  his  wife,  Dosie,  are  my 
only  servants  now." 

Every  vestige  of  color  forsook  Victory's  face  as 
she  listened.  Leaning  forward  she  asked  piteously : 

"Then  who  was  my  father  ?  His  name  was  Jason 
Radcliffe.  He  claimed  to  be  your  son  and  the 
brother  of  Rupert  Radcliffe.  He  was  shot  some 
months  before  my  birth  while  trying  to  rescue  a 
Negro,  to  whom:  he  was  attached,  from  an  unjust 
execution  by  a  mob.  My  mother  wrote  to  Rupert 


RADCUFFE  PLANTATION  HOUSE;.          205 

Radcliffe  and  told  him  of  the  sad  fate  of  his  brother 
and  of  her  own  destitute  condition,  begging  to  be 
taken  into  the  family  of  her  husband  until  after  the 
birth  of  her  child.  He  replied  that  he  had  no  brother, 
and  that  Jason  Radcliffe  was  the  son  of  a  former 
slave  of  his  family,  and  hence  his  adoption  of  the 
name.  He  pretended  to  deplore  the  deception  that 
had  been  practiced  upon  my  mother,  and  advised  her 
to  return  North  to  her  own  relatives,  which  she  did 
to  drag  out  a  life  of  misery  in  brooding  over  the 
wrongs  she  had  received  at  the  hands  of  the  man  she 
had  loved.  And  now,  pray — who  am  I?" 

"What  was  your  mother's  name  ?"  asked  the  old 
lady,  with  suppressed  excitement. 

"Lina  Strong." 

"Then  you  must  be  the  child  of  my  son  Jason !" 
cried  the  woman,  forgetful  of  her  infirmities  as  she 
rose  and  reached  out  her  trembling  hands  toward 
the  girl.  "No  wonder  Dosie  said  you  were  the 
image  of  me  as  I  was  in  my  youth !  Jason  was  the 
image  of  me,  too!  Come,  my  dear!" 

Victory  sprang  up  and  clasped  the  wavering 
form  of  her  grandmother  in  her  strong,  young  arms. 
"It 's  too  good  to  be  true !"  she  declared,  and  then 
began  to  sob.  She  had  not  shed  a  tear  since  the 
letter  so  fatal  to  her  peace  had  fallen  into  her  hands, 
but  now  the  floodgates  were  opened  to  relieve  her 
of  all  pent-up  emotion.  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  too,  was 
overcome  with  the  joy  of  her  discovery,  and  mur- 
mured words  of  delight  and  comfort  brokenly. 

When  they  had  grown  calmer  Victory  sat  down 


206  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

on  a  hassock  beside  her  newly-found  relative,  and 
told  the  simple  story  of  her  happy  young  life  and  of 
the  few  recent  days  of  sorrow.  And  so  finally  the 
conversation  drifted  back  to  Lina  Strong  and  her 
short-lived  happiness  as  the  wife  of  Jason  Radcliffe. 
Victory  produced  the  letter  written  for  her  by  her 
mother,  and  also  the  one  written  by  Rupert  Rad- 
cliffe twenty  years  before,  which  Lina  Radcliffe  had 
inclosed  in  her  message  to  her  daughter.  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  read  the  written  pages  with  misty  eyes, 
often  removing  her  glasses  to  polish  them  before 
proceeding. 

"I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  your  identity  as  my 
granddaughter,  Victory,"  she  said,  as  she  folded  the 
letters.  "And  you  are  anxious,  no  doubt,  to  learn 
something  of  your  father's  family  and  the  cause  of 
his  estrangement  from  it." 

"Yes,  I  am  greatly  interested,  as  you  surmise." 

"My  husband,  Major  Radcliffe,  fell  in  the  Civil 
War,  and,  although  this  plantation  escaped  the  rav- 
ages of  those  brutal  Northerners,  our  fortune  van- 
ished with  the  freeing  of  our  slaves.  Our  surplus 
had  gone  to  assist  the  Confederacy  before  the 
major's  death.  After  the  war  I  found  myself  a 
widow  with  a  large  plantation  destitute  of  laborers 
on  my  hands,  and  with  two  young  sons  to  rear.  I 
managed  to  secure  a  few  Negroes  to  cultivate  a  part 
of  the  land  on  shares,  and  so  lived  along  for  several 
years  till  times  improved  and  experience  had  taught 
me  how  to  manage. 

"By  the  time  my  eldest  son  reached  his  majority 


PLANTATION  HOUSE.          207 

the  plantation  was  paying  fairly  well.  But  Rupert 
was  a  spendthrift  and  given  to  recklessness  in  gen- 
eral. Without  my  knowledge  he  entered  into  a  so- 
called  marriage  contract  with  a  handsome,  educated 
quadroon  and  brought  her  home.  Outraged  at  the 
insult  I  refused  to  recognize  the  quadroon  as  my 
daughter-in-law.  We  lived  in  continual  dissension 
for  some  months,  and  then  Rupert  quarreled  with 
the  woman,  who  disappeared  from  my  house  on  the 
eve  of  childbirth.  My  son  had  wearied  of  her ;  but 
conscious  that  she  had  suffered  at  his  hands  I  com- 
manded him  to  find  her  and  make  provision  for  her 
comfort.  He  made  some  effort,  but  never  obtained 
any  clue  of  her  so  far  as  I  know. 

"After  his  riddance  of  the  quadroon,  my  son 
married  a  white  girl  of  fairly  good  family.  But  still 
we  were  not  happy.  Rupert  wanted  full  control  of 
the  plantation,  and  his  wife  of  the  mansion.  I  would 
grant  neither.  The  major's  personal  fortune  had 
been  invested  entirely  in  slaves  and  in  a  smaller  plan- 
tation on  the  river,  which  was  laid  in  ruins  during 
the  war.  This  property  was  my  own  inheritance, 
and  I  would  not  yield  it  into  the  hands  of  a  spend- 
thrift. 

"My  younger  son,  Jason,  who  was  quite  differ- 
ent from  Rupert  in  disposition  and  character,  was 
finishing  his  education  at  a  school  in  St.  Louis.  I 
believed  he  would  be  capable  of  managing  the  plan- 
tation very  soon,  and  hopefully  awaited  his  home- 
coming. Rupert  was  jealous  of  my  affection  for 
his  brother,  and  redoubled  his  demands  for  a  con- 


208  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

tract  that  would  insure  his  own  permanency  as  agent 
of  my  affairs.  But  I  remained  firm,  for  my  fondest 
hopes  were  centered  in  Jason.  Judge,  then,  of  my 
surprise  and  anger  when  he  wrote  that  he  was  soon 
to  marry  a  Northern  girl,  Lina  Strong,  who  was 
attending  a  ladies'  seminary  in  St.  Louis.  I  forbade 
the  marriage,  but  my  wishes  and  authority  were  set 
aside.  Later  I  refused  to  receive  Jason  and  his  bride 
at  the  plantation.  He  did  not  reply  to  my  last  for- 
bidding letter,  and  I  did  not  know  that  he  had 
brought  his  wife  down  to  a  small  Southern  town 
across  the  river  till  long  afterwards. 

"Ten  unhappy  years  passed  away,  and  then 
Dosie,  in  burning  a  lot  of  trash  cleared  from  Rupert's 
desk,  found  a  letter,  which  she  brought  to  me.  It 
was  the  one  your  mother  had  written  years  before, 
in  which  she  told  of  Jason's  death  and  of  her  own 
situation.  The  letter  went  to  my  heart.  I  sent  for 
Rupert,  and  asked  why  he  had  concealed  the  death 
of  his  brother  from  me.  When  driven  to  it,  he  con- 
fessed his  selfish  reasons,  and  acknowledged  some- 
thing of  what  he  had  written  your  mother.  A  scene 
then  transpired  that  ended  our  last  attempt  at 
friendly  relations. 

"I  compelled  Rupert  to  remove  from  my  house 
to  the  small  residence  where  he  still  lives,  and  gave 
into  his  control  a  portion  of  land  for  his  own  sup- 
port. His  wife  and  two  children  died  during  the 
yellow  fever  epidemic  a  few  years  ago,  and  he  de- 
pends upon  an  old  negress,  a  former  slave  of  the 
family,  to  attend  to  the  affairs  of  his  household. 


RADCUFFE  PLANTATION  HOUSE.          209 

"Before  learning  of  Jason's  death  I  had  secretly 
hoped  for  his  return,  and  determined  to  forgive  his 
offense  and  make  him  master  of  the  plantation  when 
he  had  humbled  himself  sufficiently  to  ask  my  favor. 
Since  my  discovery  of  his  death  I  have  had  no  more 
interest  in  life.  I  did  not  know  where  to  seek  for 
your  mother.  I  had  no  way  of  finding  out  whether 
she  or  Jason's  child  had  survived  its  birth. 

"Left  alone  I  withdrew  to  myself.  The  mansion 
is  fast  decaying,  and  the  cabins  have  fallen  to  the 
ground.  The  bulk  of  my  land  lies  idle,  but  Jas, 
with  seasonable  assistance,  raises  enough  cotton 
to  support  me  and  Dosie  and  himself  in  moderate 
comfort.  For  weary  years  I  have  been  waiting  for 
the  shadows  that  fell  upon  me  during  the  war  to 
press  me  down  into  the  grave.  For  the  name  of 
Radcliffe  means  but  ruin  now. 

"This  is  the  happiest  hour  that  has  come  to  me 
since  the  major's  death,  my  dear.  I  am  sure  I  shall 
feel  differently,  now  that  I  have  seen  you.  And  now 
I  must  call  Dosie  and  send  her  on  an  errand,"  con- 
cluded the  old  lady,  trembling  with  excitement  as 
she  struck  the  tarnished  call-bell  on  the  table  beside 
her.  Dosie  appeared  so  promptly  that  Victory  sus- 
pected her  of  being  very  close  at  hand. 

"Dosie,  this  is  my  son  Jason's  daughter!"  an- 
nounced the  mistress,  exultantly. 

"Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Missus,  is  dat  de  truf?" 
exclaimed  the  negress,  with  well  simulated  surprise. 

"Yes,  there  is  no  doubt  of  it.  Go  to  my  room 
14 


210  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  get  the  letter  from  Jason's  wife  that  you  found 
so  long  ago.  It  is  in  the  little  spring  drawer  of  my 
secretary.  Here  is  the  key." 

When  the  woman  returned  with  the  letter,  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  carefully  compared  it  with  the  one  Vic- 
tory had  brought.  The  handwriting  was  the  same. 
With  a  smile  upon  her  withered  face  the  old  lady 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  sighed  her  satisfaction. 

"Dosie,"  she  said  weakly,  as  her  nerves  relaxed 
from  their  severest  strain,  "it  is  cold.  Light  the 
fire  and  then  call  Jas  from  the  field.  We  must  have 
some  groceries  from  town,  and  I  want  to  send 
Colonel  Whitmore  word  to  come  and  dine  with  us 
this  evening.  We  will  have  dinner  at  seven,  and 
three  courses  will  be  sufficient ;  but  have  them  good. 
We  will  lunch  at  one.  Prepare  a  chicken,  some 
cream  puffs,  and  a  bottle  of  the  major's  choicest 
wine  from  the  secret  cellar.  Let  us  have  lunch 
earlier  if  you  can  prepare  it.  I  am  very  faint." 

"Dat  all 's  gwinter  be  done  d'rectly,  Missus," 
declared  the  woman,  cheerfully,  removing  the  fire- 
board  and  exposing  a  pile  of  pine  knots  and  fagots, 
which  she  set  ablaze  before  leaving  the  room. 

Dosie  did  not  attempt  to  serve  luncheon  in  the 
dining-room,  but  prepared  a  small  table  in  the  more 
habitable  library,  delighted  with  the  opportunity  to 
exhibit  a  cloth  of  exquisite  linen  and  a  few  bits  of 
rare  china  and  silver  which  she  had  extracted  from 
their  safe  hiding-places. 

After  luncheon  Mrs.  Radcliffe  fell  asleep  in  her 


PLANTATION  HOUSE.          211 

chair,  but  her  young  guest  was  not  lonely.  Relieved 
of  her  recent  burden,  she  entered  into  the  novelty 
of  her  surroundings  with  keen  enjoyment,  remem- 
bering that  she  was  in  the  historic  Southland — the 
realm  of  glowing  sun  and  grewsome  shadow,  in 
and  about  which  must  always  linger  thrilling  mem- 
ories of  romance  and  chivalry  and  mystical  splendor. 

"And  this,"  thought  the  girl,  "is  the  house  where 
my  brave  young  father  was  born.  The  father  I 
have  dreamed  about  and  longed  to  see  and  touch 
and  love." 

The  room  was  large  and  dimly  lighted,  the  shut- 
ters of  the  eastern  windows  being  closed,  and  the 
south  windows  having  their  curtains  nearly  drawn, 
besides  being  heavily  shaded  by  the  wide  porch  with- 
out. But  the  musty  atmosphere  was  full  of  fan- 
tastic charms  for  the  girl,  who  sat  dreamily  fancying 
what  the  apartment  had  been  like  in  its  glory  days. 

Tall  bookcases  loomed  up  somberly  at  intervals, 
jealously  guarding  their  wealth  of  knowledge  behind 
diamond-paned  doors,  and  on  the  broad  moldings 
above  them  bronze  busts  of  warriors  and  poets  and 
wise  philosophers  kept  silent  company.  Family  por- 
traits looked  out  of  tarnished  frames,  smilingly,  or 
sternly,  or  pridefully  serene.  Among  these  were 
paintings  of  Rupert  Radcliffe  in  the  triumph  of  his 
first  trousers,  and  of  Jason  in  velvet  kilt  and  wide 
lace  collar,  over  which  fell  long  curls  of  silken  hair. 
And  here  and  there  about  the  room  were  pedestals 
and  brackets  bearing  rare  vases  of  alabaster  or 


212  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

statuary  of  Parian  marble.  Golden  candelabra, 
whose  empty  sockets  were  filled  with  dust,  flanked 
the  silent  timepiece  on  the  mantel  and  kept  a  tryst 
pathetic  and  long  unbroken.  And  dust  was  every- 
where— dust  and  cobweb  draperies.  Yes,  there  were 
many  mute  reminders  of  bygone  splendor  in  the  old 
library,  but  none  so  fraught  with  pathos  as  the  time- 
worn  woman,  sweetly  asleep,  exhausted  with  the 
stress  of  unexpected  joy,  the  late  gift  of  a  kind 
Providence. 

A  flood  of  tenderness  swept  into  Victory's  heart 
as  she  regarded  her  aged  relative,  whose  once  glow- 
ing garlands  of  happiness  and  pride  had  lost  their 
loveliness  long  ago.  A  living  reality  of  blight  truly 
was  Dorothy  Radcliffe ;  but  she  would  never  be  less 
than  a  queen  dethroned.  Her  crown  of  hair  was  like 
spun  silver  shimmered  with  pearls,  and  she  pos- 
sessed fairness  of  skin  and  daintiness  of  lip  and 
nostril  in  spite  of  Time's  manifold  markings.  Her 
frock,  though  worn  and  out  of  date,  was  lustrous  silk 
to  the  last  thread;  her  collar,  yellow  and  old-fash- 
ioned, was  priceless  lace;  and  her  one  jewel  was  a 
peerless  diamond  whose  fire  neither  time  nor  tide 
could  quench.  But  the  air  all  around  the  slumbering 
queen  was  laden  with  the  sweet,  melancholy  fra- 
grance of  lavender  and  thyme. 

After  an  hour's  restful  sleep,  Mrs.  Radcliffe 
opened  her  eyes,  slightly  dazed  for  a  moment.  But 
Victory  was  discreetly  studying  the  faded  tapestry 
panel  of  a  rosewood  screen,  and  allowed  her  relative 


PLANTATION  HOUSE.          213 

to  resume  their  former  conversation,  as  if  no  interval 
had  elapsed. 

Black  Jas  had  brought  a  couple  of  stout  colored 
girls  from  town.  One  to  assist  Dosie  in  her  prepa- 
rations for  dinner,  and  one  to  scrub  the  dining-room, 
and  afterwards  clean  and  air  one  of  the  large  front 
chambers  for  Victory's  occupancy. 


XIX. 
THE  DINNER  GUEST. 

WHILE  awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  dinner  guest, 
Mrs.  Radcliffe  explained  to  Victory  her  reason  for 
inviting  him. 

"Colonel  Whitmore,  my  dear,  was  the  lifelong 
friend  of  the  major,  as  well  as  an  intimate  associate 
of  my  own  childhood,  and  he  has  been  the  one  con- 
stant friend  of  my  widowhood.  He  lives  only  a  few 
miles  from  here,  but  owns  a  large  plantation  farther 
back  in  the  country,  which  is  worked  by  a  large  force 
of  Negroes.  He  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  miser, 
but  that  is  because  he  is  too  proud  to  publish  the 
object  of  his  penuriousness.  He  drives  to  his  back 
plantation  nearly  every  day,  and  his  one  great  desire 
in  life  is  to  redeem  his  honor  by  paying  off  a  heavy 
debt  incurred  through  the  freeing  of  his  slaves  dur- 
ing the  war.  To  that  end  he  has  economized,  and 
won  the  ungenerous  name  he  bears.  He  is  a  hero 
in  his  way,  as  well  as  a  gentleman  of  honor. 

"Like  myself,  the  colonel  has  outlived  happiness. 
His  wife  did  not  survive  their  fallen  fortunes,  and 
there  were  no  children.  He  lives  in  the  ruins  of  his 
old  family  mansion,  which  was  partly  wrecked  by 
Union  soldiers.  It  is  even  more  desolate  than  this, 
214 


THE  DINNER  GUEST.  215 

but  is  sacred  to  him  because  of  the  pleasanter  mem- 
ories connected  with  it.  A  couple  of  blacks  attend 
his  wants,  and  his  business  occupies  most  of  his  time. 
I  consider  him  one  of  Nature's  noblemen,  Victory, 
but  I  had  two  particular  reasons  for  inviting  him  to 
dine  with  us  to-night. 

"Since  he  is  really  my  sincere  friend,  I  wish  him 
to  know  of  my  good  fortune  in  having  found  the 
daughter  of  my  favorite  son.  I  am  very  proud  of 
you,  my  dear.  I  am  also  anxious  to  give  him  an 
opportunity  to  learn  all  you  can  tell  him  of  the 
negress  mentioned  in  your  mother's  letters,  because 
Jim  Despard  and  Rhody,  his  wife,  were  born  on 
the  colonel's  plantation,  and  were  children  when 
they  were  set  free. 

"The  mothers  of  both  children  returned  to 
Colonel  Whitmore  after  two  or  three  years  of  free- 
dom, and  claimed  his  protection.  They  are  now  old 
and  almost  helpless,  but  live  in  a  comfortable  cabin 
on  the  plantation  and  are  supported  by  the  colonel. 
Rhody  went  into  the  service  of  a  white  family  in 
Nolville  when  in  her  teens,  but  Jim  remained  with 
the  colonel  till  he  reached  his  majority,  when  he 
married  Rhody  and  went  across  the  river  to  find 
employment.  That  is  the  last  we  heard  of  the  pair, 
although  Colonel  Whitmore  has  made  many  attempts 
to  find  them,  and  is  totally  ignorant  of  the  fate  of 
either.  Your  mother  did  not  mention  the  name  of 
the  Negro  on  whose  behalf  Jason  met  death  in  her 
letter  to  Rupert,  and  if  there  was  any  published 
account  of  the  Negro's  execution  the  news  did  not 


216  HITJDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

reach  this  vicinity.  Probably  the  incident  was 
hushed  up,  as  is  often  the  case  in  the  South  in  like 
affairs.  Colonel  Whitmore  will  be  interested  in  the 
fate  of  Jim  and  Rhody,  and  delighted  to  hear  of 
their  daughter  Liberty.  It  will  please  him  to  carry 
the  news  of  her  to  her  two  aged  grandmothers." 

"How  very  strangely  the  mysteries  of  our  lives 
unravel  sometimes  !"  said  Victory,  thoughtfully,  just 
as  Dosie  came  in  exclaiming: 

"De  cun'l  's  coming  'long  de  road  wid  dat 
oda'sus  ol'  niggah  Buck  on  top  ob  de  ol'  yaller 
coach,  laik  a  brack  roostah  on  de  top  ob  a  show 
wagon,  Missus !  An'  Jas  he  's  done  busted  de  long 
tail  brack  coat,  he  's  boun'  to  hab  on  if  he  's  gwinter 
wait  on  de  table !  He 's  gittin'  mos'  oda'sus  fat, 
Jas  am.  I  tol'  him  he  's  des  'bliged  to  keep  face 
fo'wa'ds,  'cause  de  busted  place  am  up  an'  down 
de  back." 

"Very  well,  Dosie,  tell  him  to  be  careful  to  face 
the  colonel  constantly  at  any  rate,"  replied  Mrs. 
Radcliffe,  with  unmoved  dignity. 

"Yes  'm.  I  s'pect  Miss  Vict'ry  's  des  r'lations  an' 
do  n't  count,  nohow,"  observed  the  woman,  gravely, 
but  a  smile  flitted  over  her  anxious  face  when  Vic- 
tory filled  the  room  with  merry  laughter. 

A  few  moments  later  Jas  solemnly  announced 
Colonel  Whitmore,  and  the  girl  felt  like  pinching 
herself  to  make  sure  she  was  not  dreaming,  so  fan- 
ciful seemed  the  nature  of  her  experiences.  But 
unmindful  that  her  fresh  beauty  and  youthful  charms 
were  as  unique  in  their  peculiar  setting  as  any  part 


THE;  DINNER  GUEST.  217 

of  the  scene  in  which  she  was  an  actor,  Victory 
courtesied  to  the  colonel,  and  extended  her  finger 
tips  as  prettily  and  quaintly  as  if  she  and  the  occa- 
sion were  back  in  the  mansion's  palmiest  days. 

Colonel  Whitmore  was  a  man  of  striking  appear- 
ance, tall,  sharp-featured,  keen-eyed,  with  a  lofty 
look  about  his  brow  and  a  winning  smile  about  his 
lips.  His  bearing  was  courtly,  and  his  daintily- 
sprigged  waistcoat,  high  stock,  and  much-worn 
dress  suit  of  black  broadcloth  became  him  exceed- 
ingly well. 

"Your  granddaughter?"  he  exclaimed  when  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  presented  the  girl.  "Ah,  are  my  eyes 
tricking  me?  Is  it  not  yourself,  Dorothy,  arisen 
from  the  ashes  of  the  past  ?  Your  name  is  Dorothy, 
is  it  not,  my  child  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  to  whom  the  last  ques- 
tion was  addressed.  "It  is  Victory." 

"Victory?  Ah,  then  you  have  come  from  the 
North.  We  never  name  a  Southern  queen  Victory. 
Who  chose  your  name,  my  child?" 

"My  Uncle  Jerry  Payson.  He  left  parts  of  his 
body  on  your  battlefields,  and  has  been  chained  to  a 
chair  ever  since ;  but  he  is  still  a  hero,  forever  cheer- 
ful and  loyal  to  the  necessity  that  wrecked  his 
strength  and  activity." 

"And  why  not  ?  'They  laugh  who  win !'  Only 
a  coward  whines  over  the  cost  of  victory !  We,  who 
lost  all,  mourn  because  we  had  not  more  to  lavish 
on  the  cause  we  were  forced  to  yield.  The  best  of 
us  are  loyal  to  it  yet  in  our  hearts.  We  were  driven 


218  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

to  break  bread  with  Peace,  but  few  of  us  have  eaten 
what  we  broke;  we  dropped  it  with  our  swords,  to 
molder  with  the  rusting  blades  in  the  ruins  of  our 
hearthstones.  Do  you  count  it  treason  that  the 
Southern  soldier's  heart  is  as  loyal  to  his  ideal  gov- 
ernment to-day  as  when  he  marched  to  face  your 
Northern  cannons  in  its  defense  ?" 

"Were  I  to  answer  truly,  Colonel  Whitmore,  you 
would  straightway  think  me  inconsistent." 

"To  be  that  is  the  privilege  of  the  fair,  Miss  Vic- 
tory. We  do  not  chide  who  charms  us  most.  But 
after  all  is  said,  I  've  heard  a  woman  loves  a  soldier 
brave,  no  matter  what  his  loss  has  been.  Is  it  true  ?" 

"I  can  not  speak  for  all  my  sex.  I  love  the 
Union  with  all  my  heart,  and  yield  ready  homage 
to  the  victorious  army  of  the  North  for  what  they 
won  at  such  a  price.  But  I  do  admire  the  dauntless 
bravery  of  that  proud,  defiant  Southern  host  as  well, 
for  had  I  been  a  man  living  at  that  crisis  I  should 
have  gone  to  battle  in  company  with  my  Grandfather 
Radcliffe,  no  doubt,  and  fallen  with  him,  if  need  had 
been,  to  support  what  he  thought  right." 

"Hear,  Dorothy!  It  is  the  warm  South  that 
speaks,  and  not  the  icy  North !  Your  granddaughter 
is  ours — the  springtime  of  yourself  come  back  to 
cheer  our  winter  days.  Look,  Dorothy !  she  is  truly 
the  resurrection  of  your  youth." 

"Your  flatteries  are  wine  to  my  vanity,  Colonel. 
But  before  you  came  I  was  already  persuaded  that 
Victory  imaged  my  youth.  Even  Dosie  noticed  her 
likeness  to  my  portrait." 


THE  DINNER  GUEST.  219 

"Dinna !"  announced  Jas  in  pompous  tones  from 
the  doorway,  bowing  low  and  then  backing  down 
the  broad  hall  and  into  the  dining-room. 

The  dinner  was  well  cooked  and  served,  but  Vic- 
tory found  it  painfully  difficult  to  maintain  her 
gravity  throughout  the  meal.  One  swift  glance  at 
Jas  at  an  instant  when  he  was  "face  fo'wa'ds"  to 
the  colonel  had  been  sufficient  fully  to  arouse  her 
sense  of  the  ridiculous,  and  she  dared  not  look  in 
his  direction  again,  but  continued  to  be  mirthfully 
conscious  of  his  predicament.  Intent  upon  serving, 
he  was  constantly  forgetting  to  keep  "face  fo'wa'ds," 
and  was  likewise  serenely  oblivious  of  Dosie's  whis- 
pers and  coughs  of  reminder  from  the  half-closed 
door. 

The  offending  coat  was  full  to  overflowing  with 
the  Negro's  corpulency,  and  the  split  along  the  mid- 
dle seam  increased  with  every  movement  till  only 
the  collar  connected  the  two  halves  of  the  garment, 
the  divisions  having  continued  to  separate  till  the 
tails  of  the  once  correct  dress  coat  had  parted  com- 
pany at  the  waist  line,  never  to  meet  again. 

After  returning  to  the  library,  Victory,  at  the 
request  of  her  grandmother,  related  what  she  knew 
concerning  Jim  and  Rhody  Despard,  and  then  gave 
a  detailed  description  of  Liberty's  life  and  attain- 
ments. She  also  told  a  great  deal  about  Miss  Lane 
and  her  charities,  but  without  other  design  than  to 
avoid  a  too  lengthy  story  omitted  to  speak  of  Robert 
Lane,  except  as  regarded  his  position  at  the  cottage 


220  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  his  helpfulness  to  Liberty.  There  seemed  no 
occasion  to  speak  of  his  late  discoveries. 

As  Mrs.  Radcliffe  had  surmised,  Colonel  Whit- 
more  was  intensely  interested  in  the  recital.  He 
asked  many  questions  concerning  Liberty  and  her 
ambitions.  But  aside  from  Liberty's  intention  to 
enter  a  freedmen's  university  to  complete  her  edu- 
cation and  fit  herself  for  future  usefulness  to  her 
race,  Victory  could  tell  little  of  the  girl's  plans. 

"Perhaps  Liberty's  ambition  to  spend  her  life  in 
intimate  association  with  her  race  will  weaken  when 
she  conies  into  actual  contact  with  them  in  their 
crudeness.  One  Northern  born  and  gently  reared 
in  the  midst  of  thrift  and  comfort  can  scarcely  com- 
prehend the  Negro  in  his  real  condition,  as  we 
Southerners  do,"  said  Colonel  Whitmore,  reflect- 
ively. 

"But  Liberty  is  not  altogether  ignorant.  Aunt 
Hilda  has  taken  her  to  St.  Louis  every  fall  during 
Fair  time  for  years,  and  allowed  her  to  spend  days 
at  a  time  in  visiting  the  poorest  homes  in  the  Negro 
quarters  of  the  city,  as  well  as  in  reviewing  them  at 
their  various  occupations  and  in  their  churches  and 
educational  institutions.  Of  course,  these  investi- 
gations were  superficial,  and  revealed  only  certain 
grades  of  Negro  life,  but  they  helped  Liberty  to 
realize  the  needs  of  her  people.  She  has  also  an  in- 
teresting and  valuable  collection  of  books  and  other 
literature  descriptive  and  illustrative  of  the  Southern 
Negro  and  his  environments.  And  she  has  numer- 
ous scrapbooks  in  which  she  systematically  arranges 


THE  DINNER  GUEST.  221 

miscellaneous  articles  bearing  upon  the  Negro  prob- 
lem. In  fact,  there  isn't  anything  very  important 
published  on  the  subject  that  does  not  find  its  way 
to  Liberty's  little  study  room,  for  Robert  is  con- 
stantly on  the  watch  for  such  items,  and  Aunt  Hilda 
gladly  furnishes  the  funds.  Liberty  is  a  thorough 
student,  and  I  think  she  really  has  a  very  fair  com- 
prehension of  the  condition  of  her  race." 

"Theoretically  no  doubt.  But  the  reality  is  al- 
ways different  from  the  pen  picture.  It  is  one  thing 
to  know  the  names  of  things,  and  quite  another  to 
identify  them  by  actual  touch.  Does  Liberty  feel 
compelled  to  finish  her  education  at  an  institution 
for  Negroes?" 

"It  is  her  choice.  She  can  name  every  freed- 
men's  college  in  the  land,  I  think;  but  she  more 
frequently  speaks  of  Hampton,  Tuskegee,  Fisk, 
Howard,  and  Atlanta.  She  likes  to  study  the  char- 
acters of  the  enemies  of  her  race,  as  well  as  its 
friends  and  benefactors,  and  keeps  lists  of  the  names 
and  addresses  of  all  that  particularly  interest  her. 
She  also  keeps  track  of  many  educated  Negroes, 
watching  the  development  of  their  careers  with  much 
interest.  At  present  she  is  deeply  engrossed  in  a 
study  of  the  Black  Belt.  She  has  dusky  heroes,  too, 
and  is  a  warm  admirer  of  the  kingly  champion  of 
her  race  at  Tuskegee,  as  well  as  a  sympathetic  adorer 
of  the  more  soulful  wizard  of  Atlanta.  Indeed,  Lib- 
erty is  very  well  informed,  Colonel  Whitmore." 

"Ah,  who  could  doubt  it  in  the  face  of  your 
generous  plaudits?"  asked  the  colonel,  glancing  at 


222  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  glowing  face  and  sparkling  eyes  admiringly. 
"And  now  what  are  your  own  persuasions?  Are 
you  an  advocate  of  equal  rights  between  the  races  ?" 

"As  a  principle,  yes,  sir.  But  a  principle  may 
have  limitations." 

"You  are  wary.  A  hint  of  Yankee  ingeniousness 
flavors  your  speech.  Where  would  you  discrimi- 
nate ?" 

"I  am  not  generous  in  my  limitations." 

"Then  you  are  interesting.  You  draw  a  circle, 
and  not  a  mere  line  which  may  be  lengthened  or 
shortened  to  suit  a  circumstance." 

"I  had  not  realized  my  position  so  positively 
before." 

"Ah,  I  suspicion  that  it  is  the  South  that  speaks 
now." 

"Not  clearly  so,  I  fancy.  I  would  give  the  Negro 
more  latitude  in  some  respects  than  is  granted  him 
here.  But  I  would  certainly  draw  my  circle  together 
so  as  to  leave  him  outside  of  any  possible  degree  of 
social  equality,  and  make  intermarriage  with  one  of 
the  superior  race  a  crime." 

"A  crime  so  defined  must  have  its  specific  pen- 
alty." 

"Yes.    It  should  be  death." 

"Hear,  Dorothy !  It  is  the  smothered  sentiment 
of  the  South  that  speaks!"  cried  the  colonel,  exult- 
antly. Then  he  rose  and  went  close  to  the  portrait 
of  Major  Radcliffe.  "Miss  Victory,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, "your  grandfather  expressed  himself  to  me  in 
almost  your  exact  words  once,  and  in  this  very  room. 


THE:  DINNER  GUEST.  223 

You  have  inherited  your  grandmother's  beauty,  and 
something  of  your  grandfather's  spirit.  He  was  a 
hard  master  over  his  slaves ;  but  he  was  as  tender  as 
a  woman  in  his  friendships  and  as  steadfast  as  the 
Almighty  to  his  principles.  Are  you  like  that  ?" 

"I  have  never  been  tried  but  once,  and  that  for 
the  strain  of  a  few  days  only,"  replied  the  girl,  with 
shadowed  eyes. 

"I  will  tell  the  colonel  about  your  trial  some 
time,  my  dear,"  interposed  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  gently. 

"I  shall  remind  you  of  the  promise,  Dorothy. 
But  it  is  getting  late.  Buck  is  showing  signs  of  im- 
patience. I  must  return  to  my  castle.  I  hope  to 
meet  you  again,  Miss  Victory,  and  trust  that  your 
sojourn  at  the  plantation  will  be  pleasant.  But  you 
must  not  judge  our  magnificent  South  by  the  devas- 
tated scenes  around  here.  Nolville  has  little  impulse 
for  growth,  and  only  when  the  cotton  crop  comes 
in  for  shipment  in  the  fall  does  the  town  arouse 
from  its  stupidity  for  a  season.  We  are  still  stunned 
from  the  clamor  and  climax  of  war.  But  this  deso- 
lation will  pass,  must  pass,  for  new  generations  are 
arising  to  build  upon  our  broken  fortunes.  The 
spirit  of  progress  will  soon  breathe  upon  our  fallow 
fields  and  chilled  hearths,  these  benumbed  scenes  will 
thrill,  and,  presto !  the  land  will  blossom  as  a  rose !" 

"But  we  who  have  felt  the  wounds  of  wrong 
and  supped  with  bitterness  shall  have  passed  away, 
Colonel,"  said  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  plaintively. 

"That  is  a  surety.  What  would  you  ask  better? 
We  have  had  our  day,  and  it  was  glorious  while  it 


224  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

lasted.  Let  us  bid  Godspeed  to  our  successors,  and 
bid  them  build  better  than  we  builded.  Hush, 
Dorothy,  we  have  wept  enough.  Let  us  smile  in 
these  sunset  hours,  and  so  hark  for  the  call  to  leave 
these  battlefields  and  climb  the  heavens.  Sorrows 
are  fleeting  ills.  Heaven  is  eternal." 

"I  am  reminded  of  Aunt  Hilda,  Colonel,"  said 
Victory,  softly.  "She  is  always  cheered  through  her 
trials  by  the  reflection  that  'Things  might  have  been 
a  heap  worse,  and  God  's  at  the  head  of  things.' " 

"Ah,  we  need  more  of  that  kind  of  philosophy," 
replied  the  colonel,  again  absorbed  with  the  major's 
picture. 

"But  things  could  n't  have  been  worse  with  us," 
declared  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  bitterly. 

"Hush,  hush,  Dorothy,"  chided  the  man,  gently. 
"We  might  have  had  less  to  give  the  Confederacy. 
And  the  major  might  have  lived  to  behold  our  down- 
fall and  suffer  what  we  have  endured." 

Victory's  eyes  filled  with  sympathetic  tears.  Im- 
pulsively she  slipped  to  her  knees  and  threw  her 
arms  about  her  aged  relative. 

"We  have  strayed  into  the  shadows,"  said  the 
colonel,  regretfully.  "I  fear  I  led  the  way.  Forgive 
me,  Dorothy,  I  should  not  have  lifted  the  drapery  of 
the  past.  Nor  would  I  have  you  think  that  our 
splendid  South  is  one  vast  'banquet  hall  deserted,' 
Miss  Victory.  This  scene  is  small  and  untrue  to 
our  grander  prospect.  You  should  visit  our  great 
centers,  where  wealth  and  progress  and  power  hold 
carnivals.  You  should  review  our  prosperous  sec- 


THE  DINNER  GUEST.  225 

tions,  our  thriving  towns,  ^eats  of  learning,  and  be- 
hold the  glories  of  our  larger  cities  and  capitals,  our 
fine  cotton  plantations  and  markets,  and  meet  the 
enthusiastic  people  of  our  land." 

"I  should  be  pleased  to  review  the  grandeur  of 
the  Southland,  Colonel,"  replied  the  girl,  softly,  "but 
the  deserted  hall  of  the  Radcliffes  charms  me  more 
than  could  the  glories  of  your  cities  or  the  glitter 
of  your  capitals." 

"Did  you  hear,  Dorothy  ?  It  was  the  Old  South 
that  spoke !  Have  done  with  tears — your  rose  is 
blooming  at  your  side !"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  bend- 
ing to  take  the  girl's  hand  in  a  farewell  clasp.  "You 
are  ours,  Miss  Victory.  The  icy  North  is  but  your 
foster  parent !" 

"Perhaps  I  am  a  union  of  North  and  South.  I 
love  them  both,  but  which  more,  which  less,  I  shall 
not  try  at  this  moment  to  determine,"  retorted  the 
girl,  laying  her  pink  palm  against  the  colonel's. 

"Ah,  the  Yankee  speaks  again !"  asserted  the 
man,  smilingly.  "Well,  I  have  said,  'We  do  not 
chide  who  charms  us  most.'  I  must  be  reconciled 
to  trifling  inconsistencies  in  you,  I  think." 

Long  after  she  went  to  her  room  Victory  sat  at 
a  quaint  rosewood  desk  writing  letters,  one  to  Jerry 
Payson  and  one  to  Eric  Horine,  little  dreaming  that 
neither  of  the  men  would  be  able  to  receive  them. 
Some  one,  probably  the  colored  girl  who  had  pre- 
pared the  room  for  its  guest,  had  rilled  a  dragon- 
blue  vase  with  rosemary  and  jasmine,  and  set  it  on 
the  windowsill  for  the  night  wind  to  kiss  as  it  stole 
15 


226  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

into  the  room.  The  air  was  full  of  fragrance,  and 
when  the  young  Northern  girl  crept  into  bed,  weary 
— O,  very  weary,  but  peacefully  happy — she  found 
the  bed  linen  faintly  scented  with  lavender  and 
thyme,  and  fell  asleep  with  a  smile  of  content 
wreathing  her  lips. 

After  a  few  golden  days  the  young  guest  set  out 
for  home,  carrying  with  her  the  history  of  her 
father's  family,  the  tender,  loving  blessing  of  her 
Grandmother  Radcliffe,  and  many  delightful  mem- 
ories. But  Victory  was  not  the  only  one  benefited 
by  her  short  visit  in  the  South.  Mrs.  Radcliffe  was 
suddenly  awakened  from  a  long  season  of  melan- 
choly seclusion  to  find  life  taking  on  new  colors. 
The  future  thrilled  with  hopefulness  for  the  lonely 
woman  who  now  hugged  to  her  heart  a  new  pos- 
session, in  the  affection  of  a  beautiful  grand- 
daughter who  had  promised  to  visit  her  often.  The 
departed  joys  of  the  past  had  left  no  such  pledge. 


XX. 
ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH. 

ON  the  morning  after  Victory  left  the  Radcliffe 
plantation  to  return  North,  a  handsome,  olive-com- 
plexioned  gentleman  got  off  the  cars  at  Nolville  and 
surrendered  himself  to  the  guidance  of  Rush,  the 
Negro  boy,  who  had  secured  the  girl's  patronage 
for  the  Oakly  Hotel  a  few  days  before.  The  new 
arrival  was  Robert  Lane. 

The  young  man  entertained  the  secret  hope  that 
his  mother's  connection  with  his  father  had  been 
legal.  It  was  scarcely  probable,  he  argued,  that 
Rupert  Radcliffe,  if  sufficiently  infatuated  with  Patra 
Dunbar  to  present  her  as  his  wife  to  his  mother  and 
the  public  in  general,  would  have  ventured  so  to 
proclaim  an  unlawful  relation.  Robert  did  not  doubt 
his  mother's  word,  but  considered  it  proper  to  in- 
vestigate the  validity  of  the  marriage  contract  his 
father  had  repudiated. 

Several  days  devoted  to  cautious  inquiries  and 
a  careful  review  of  official  records  convinced  Robert 
that  his  mother's  story  was  true,  and  also  that  he 
was  himself  honestly  the  child  of  wedlock.  This 
latter  fact  was  extremely  satisfying,  in  spite  of  the 
discovery  that  the  marriage  bond  had  been  more 
227 


228  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

easily  set  aside  because  of  its  violation  of  Southern 
sentiments  than  through  his  mother's  voluntary  de- 
sertion of  her  husband's  home. 

After  proving  the  facts  vital  to  his  own  content, 
Robert  Lane  lingered  at  Nolville  to  make  investi- 
gations along  other  lines.  He  wished  to  see  his 
father  and  learn  something  of  the  Radcliffes,  al- 
though he  had  no  desire  to  identify  himself  with  the 
family.  He  also  found  the  locality  a  capital  place  in 
which  to  study  the  race  problem,  concerning  which 
he  was  now  more  deeply  interested  than  ever.  He 
found  his  host  very  communicative,  but  was  slightly 
puzzled  over  certain  peculiarties  of  his  treatment  as 
a  guest,  until  Rush  incidentally  revealed  the  secret 
one  morning  when  asked  for  a  small  service.  The 
lad  had  replied  respectfully  enough: 

"Yes,  sah,  d'rectly.  I'se  boun'  to  wait  on  de 
white  gentlemen  fust." 

The  answer  shocked  Robert  more  than  he  had 
supposed  the  recognition  of  his  caste  would  affect 
him.  From  his  birth  he  had  been  intimately  associ- 
ated with  white  people,  none  of  whom  had  even  sus- 
pected his  racial  taint,  nor  had  he  revealed  it  since 
coming  South.  He  sounded  Rush  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

"What  did  you  mean  by  telling  me  that  you  were 
obliged  to  serve  the  white  gentlemen  first,  Rush?" 

"Jes'  dat,  sah.    You  'se  ain't  cl'ar  white." 

"Why  do  you  think  I  am  not  ?" 

"I'se  ain't  de  judge  ob  t'ings,  sah/'  replied  the 
boy,  humbly.  "Mistah  Oakly  toT  me  to  tote  yo' 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     229 

grips  to  thu'd  floor  de  day  yo'se  come.  And  yo'  eat 
in  de  li'P  dining-room,  sah.  Yo'  can't  fool  Mistah 
Oakly.  He  spots  de  darky  ebery  time,  sah." 

This  ingenious  explanation  furnished  Robert 
Lane  with  food  for  much  reflection.  He  resolved  to 
study  those  subtle  distinctions  which  so  instantly 
betrayed  the  presence  of  the  "fatal  drop"  to  his  ob- 
servant host. 

The  post-office  was  directly  opposite  the  Oakly 
Hotel.  It  interested  Robert  to  watch  the  throng 
going  in  and  out  of  the  small  building  at  mail  time. 
He  was  enjoying  the  spectacle  from  the  porch  of  the 
hotel  one  morning  in  company  with  his  talkative 
host,  when  an  ancient  but  stoutly  constructed  coach, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  mules,  was  brought  to  a  halt  in 
front  of  the  post-office  by  an  aged  Negro  driver.  A 
dignified  elderly  gentleman  alighted  from  the  coach. 

"That 's  the  high-blooded  aristocrat  I  was  telling 
you  about  just  now,  Mistah  Lane,"  observed  Mr. 
Oakly.  "Yes,  sah,  that's  Colonel  Whitmo'.  He 
went  through  the  war  and  fought  at  the  front  of 
many  a  battle,  and  nevah  got  a  scratch  or  a  blistah ! 
He  's  the  stingiest  man  in  the  community  I  'm  bound 
to  say,  but  he  's  a  gentleman  from  his  feet  up.  Yes, 
sah !  We  're  proud  of  the  colonel.  He  keeps  us 
from  forgetting  what  the  Old  South  was  like.  He  's 
got  a  big  plantation  a  dozen  or  mo'  miles  from  town, 
and  works  a  pack  of  blacks  under  a  yellah  boss. 
They  make  the  hardest  sort  of  drivers — them  yellah 
breeds.  Yes,  sah!  The  one  Colonel  Whitmo'  has 
drives  his  niggahs  like  the  Old  Nick !" 


230  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"But  they  are  not  held  in  bondage  ?  They  work 
for  wages  and  are  free  to  seek  other  employment, 
of  course?" 

"Shuah  they  work  for  wages,  twelve  hours  to 
the  day,  and  live  as  well  as  the  other  cattle  and  hogs 
and  mules  on  the  plantation ;  and  that 's  good  enough 
for  a  niggah,  and  the  only  way  they  earn  their  keep." 

"There  can  be  but  one  right  way  to  treat  men  of 
any  color.  And  that 's  to  treat  them  fairly  and  hu- 
manely." 

"The  judges  of  fairness  diffah  as  to  the  way  of 
Tightness,  sah.  The  right  road  for  the  white  man 
is  the  right  way  for  the  niggah,  just  so  fa'  and  no 
fa'thah.  If  the  niggah  stops  short  of  the  polls,  the 
schoolhouse,  and  the  white  man's  pa'lah,  well  and 
good.  But  let  him  learn  to  read  and  write,  stick  his 
nose  into  politics,  or  his  foot  into  the  white  man's 
pa'lah,  and  the  devil 's  loose.  Yes,  sah,  the  devil 's 
loose,  and  you  can't  tole  him  back  into  the  cotton 
field  with  pork  and  meal  no  mo'.  No,  sah,  nevah !" 

"All  of  which  proves  that  he  has  more  than  brute 
instincts.  It  has  been  fully  proven  that  Negroes 
may  become  scholars  and  able  reasoners.  You  have 
thousands  of  educated  Negroes  in  the  South,  and 
among  them  a  few  illustrious  examples.  You  can 
not  ignore  facts." 

"We  have  gots  thousands  of  niggah  fools  with 
mo'  book  learning  than  common  sense;  yes,  sah, 
that 's  a  fact.  But  when  it  comes  to  illustrious  ex- 
amples among  our  full-blooded  Negroes,  they're 
sca'ce  as  hen's  teeth ;  yes,  sah !" 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     231 

"I  met  a  Southern  gentleman  on  the  train  the 
other  day  who  spoke  very  enthusiastically  about  the 
progress  of  the  Southern  Negro  in  general,  and  also 
in  particular  instances." 

"Was  he  a  white  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"Well,  sah.  I  '11  tell  you.  You  have  n't  got  a 
monopoly  of  all  the  white  fools  up  North.  We  've 
got  a  lot  of  them  down  here,  too ;  and  that 's  anothah 
fact  fo'  you.  The  high-blooded  white  stock  of  the 
South  has  got  mixed  with  Yankee  blood  since  the 
wah,  and  it 's  a  bad  mix-up ;  yes,  sah !" 

"But  you  have  direct  descendants  of  famous 
Southern  families,  men  of  prominence  and  wide  in- 
fluence, who  are  promoting  Negro  education." 

"So  you  say,  sah.  But  when  you  get  at  the  bot- 
tom of  their  arguments  you  '11  find  it 's  industrial 
education  they  're  talking  about,  with  just  enough 
book  learning  to  make  the  trades  run  slick.  But 
even  that  much  is  a  mistake  the  South  will  have  to 
suffah  for  one  of  these  days.  Yes,  sah !" 

"I  don't  agree  with  you.  The  wealth,  power, 
and  rank  of  a  nation,  State,  or  community  is  in- 
creased by  the  enlightenment  of  its  people." 

"That  sort  of  stuff  sounds  well  in  a  pulpit  and 
looks  fine  in  print.  Even  a  political  stump  howlah 
can  put  a  few  patches  of  it  in  his  speeches  and  make 
them  fit  like  frogs  in  a  puddle.  Yes,  sah !  But  it 
do  n't  take  enlightened  workmen  to  raise  cotton.  It 
takes  niggahs  with  backbones  and  fingers  and  hoes. 


232  HIU>A  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

And  big  cotton  crops  mean  wealth  and  powah  and 
rank  fo'  the  South.  Yes,  sah !" 

Robert  Lane  found  these  talks  with  his  host 
amusing  and  instructive  in  a  way,  but  did  not  care 
to  argue  beyond  the  point  upon  which  he  was  seek- 
ing information.  He  chose  to  end  the  conversation 
for  the  time  by  strolling  across  the  street  to  where 
Colonel  Whitmore  and  a  florid-faced  man  of  dissi- 
pated appearance  were  conversing.  Several  by- 
standers were  listening  to  the  talk.  As  Robert  ap- 
proached Colonel  Whitmore  was  saying,  in  his 
smooth,  pleasant  voice: 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  favor  you  if  I  can,  Rupert. 
I  '11  speak  to  Dan  to-day.  If  he  can  spare  a  mule 
for  a  week  or  two  you  '11  be  welcome  to  the  use 
of  it." 

"I  '11  be  everlastingly  indebted  to  you,  Colonel. 
I  've  just  got  back  from  a  three  weeks'  hunt  down 
in  the  swamp.  Came  home  at  daybreak  and  caught 
my  niggers  on  the  windup  of  a  jubilee.  Every 
mother's  son  of  them  have  let  their  hoes  rust  where 
they  dropped  them  when  I  rode  out  of  sight,  and 
the  weeds  are  knee  high  in  the  corn.  But  the 
strings  of  their  banjos  are  slick  enough,  and  the 
floor  of  the  big  room  looks  like  a  circus  ring  after 
the  show  's  over  and  the  tent 's  moved  off." 

There  was  a  loud  guffaw  from  the  bystanders 
at  this  bit  of  humor,  in  which  the  florid-faced  man 
joined  boisterously,  fanning  himself  with  his  pan- 
ama  with  one  gloved  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
mopped  the  bald  front  of  his  head  with  a  yellow 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     233 

silk  handkerchief.  After  a  few  more  pleasantries 
the  man  went  into  the  post-office.  Robert  Lane 
glanced  at  him  curiously,  wondering  if  there  were 
other  Ruperts  in  the  locality,  or  if  this  one  was  his 
father. 

But  the  young  man  had  crossed  the  street  for  a 
purpose,  and  there  was  scant  time  for  meditation. 
Raising  his  hat  with  the  easy  grace  of  manner  so 
natural  to  him,  he  accosted  Colonel  Whitmore  as  he 
was  about  to  enter  his  coach : 

"Your  pardon  for  my  presumption,  sir!  I  be- 
lieve you  are  Colonel  Whitmore,  the  owner  of  a  very 
large  cotton  plantation  in  this  vicinity.  My  name  is 
Lane.  I  am  from  Illinois.  I  have  never  visited  a 
large  plantation,  but  I  am  anxious  to  do  so.  May  I 
have  the  privilege  of  visiting  yours,  sir?" 

"In  what  capacity  ?"  questioned  the  colonel,  look- 
ing squarely  into  the  velvety,  dark  eyes  that  met 
his  own  frankly  and  steadily.  "Are  you  a  Govern- 
ment officer,  a  politician,  a  philanthropist,  or  a — 
what  ?" 

"I  am  not  a  spy  nor  any  of  those  other  creatures, 
sir,"  replied  Robert,  his  face  lighting  up  with  a  smile 
that  always  won  its  way  into  the  hearts  of  strangers. 
"I  wish  to  visit  your  plantation  merely  as  a  student 
in  search  of  a  finely  illustrated  object-lesson." 

"And  you  are  not  a  kodak  fiend  nor  a  newspaper 
reporter  ?" 

"No,  sir,  nor  a  book  agent,  nor  a  bearer  of  dan- 
gerous weapons  or  explosives  of  any  kind  what- 
soever." 


234  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Ah,  then  you  must  be  a  very  harmless  fellow. 
If  you  are  at  liberty  this  morning  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  carry  you  with  me.  I  am  starting  to  my  planta- 
tion at  this  moment." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you!  I  am  honored  by 
your  courtesy!"  exclaimed  Robert,  getting  into  the 
seat  beside  his  new  acquaintance  without  a  moment's 
hesitation. 

The  race  question  was  not  broached  during  the 
pleasant  drive.  There  was  no  lack  of  other  topics, 
and  probably  both  men  wished  to  avoid  the  strain 
that  might  result  from  an  early  exchange  of  opinions. 

The  scenes  at  the  plantation  were  a  revelation  to 
Robert  Lane.  Only  from  car  windows  had  he  seen 
Negroes  engaged  in  field  labor  in  any  considerable 
number,  and  then  only  on  small  sections  of  land. 
But  now  he  beheld  a  broad  domain,  slit  with  a 
wooded  stream,  near  which  was  arrayed  a  collection 
of  rude  and  picturesque  buildings. 

The  overseer's  office,  a  large  warehouse,  a  cotton 
ginnery,  a  tiny  grist-mill,  and  a  supply  store,  across 
the  counter  of  which  the  Negroes  bartered  their 
credits  for  daily  necessities,  were  flanked  with  vari- 
ous sheds  and  constituted  the  central  group,  around 
which  a  large  number  of  low  cabins  squatted  in  a 
semi-circle. 

Dan,  the  overseer,  a  large,  heavy-featured  mu- 
latto with  piercing  eyes  and  ferocious  aspect,  be- 
stowed upon  Robert  a  suspicious  glance  and  beck- 
oned Colonel  Whitmore  into  his  private  office  at 
once.  But  Buck,  at  a  word  from  his  master,  de- 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.      235 

scended  from  his  perch  on  the  coach,  tied  his  mules, 
.and  announced  himself  in  readiness  to  escort  the 
visitor  about  the  premises. 

After  several  hours  spent  in  the  review  of  scenes 
entirely  novel  to  him,  Robert  found  himself  nearing 
the  point  from  which  he  had  started,  but  the  coach 
had  vanished. 

"I  s'pect  Dan  's  took  de  Cun'l  ober  de  creek, 
sah !  Dey  's  suffin'  in  de  wind  ober  dar.  I  s'pect 
dat  fool  Ham  's  been  ober  to  dat  schoolhouse  ag'in, 
and  fetched  back  his  haid  full  ob  fool  notions. 
Dey  's  got  a  darky  teachah  ober  dar  wid  de  learnin' 
jes'  bustin'  out  ob  his  mouf." 

"Do  n't  you  believe  in  the  education  of  your  race, 
Uncle  Buck  ?"  asked  Robert,  curiously. 

The  old  man  rolled  his  eyes  about  half  fearfully 
as  if  in  search  of  unfriendly  listeners,  and,  evading  a 
direct  reply,  asked  with  a  hungry  gleam  in  his  rov- 
ing glance : 

"What  yo'  s'pect 's  gwinter  be  de  bes'  fo'  de 
darkies,  sah?" 

"That  is  the  question  that  is  bothering  me, 
Uncle,"  replied  Robert,  remembering  that  it  was 
scarcely  honorable  to  speak  more  explicitly  in  the 
circumstances,  and  immediately  changing  the  sub- 
ject. 

Colonel  Whitmore  soon  appeared,  explained  sev- 
eral things  to  the  young  man,  and  then  hastened 
over  to  a  cabin  where  two  aged  Negro  women  were 
sitting  beside  the  door  watching  him  with  expectant 
faces.  He  tossed  a  package  into  the  lap  of  each, 


236  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  lingered  only  a  moment  to  pat  their  brightly- 
turbaned  heads  and  exchange  a  few  words,  for  it 
was  getting  late  and  he  was  anxious  to  start  home. 

As  the  mules  moved  off  at  a  jog  of  a  trot,  Robert 
Lane  glanced  back  at  the  scene  he  was  leaving,  and 
his  attention  was  caught  by  the  two  old  women 
beside  their  cabin  door  delightedly  comparing  their 
late  gifts,  which  were  small  striped  sacks  of  smok- 
ing tobacco.  The  plantation  raised  its  own  tobacco, 
but  a  package  of  store  goods  was  a  coveted  luxury. 

"You  have  favorites,  I  notice,"  observed  Robert. 

"Ah,  you  refer  to  those  old  mammies.  They 
were  once  my  slaves.  They  returned  to  me  after 
a  short  struggle  with  freedom,  and  were  very  faith- 
ful during  their  years  of  activity.  They  are  my  pen- 
sioners now.  I  was  the  happy  bearer  of  a  wonderful 
piece  of  news  to  them  a  few  days  ago.  A  grand- 
daughter of  whose  existence  they  had  not  known 
has  been  discovered.  I  learned  of  her  through  the 
visit  of  a  young  Northern  lady  to  one  of  my  friends, 
By  the  way,  she  was  from  Illinois  also." 

"From  Payson  Bend?"  asked  Robert,  unguard- 
edly. 

"Yes,  from  Payson  Bend,"  replied  the  colonel, 
with  his  keen  eyes  fixed  upon  the  younger  man's 
face.  "Miss  Victory  Radcliffe  is  her  name.  Do 
you  know  her?" 

For  a  moment  the  landscape  wavered  before 
Robert's  eyes,  but  remembering  that  the  secret  of 
his  relation  to  the  Radcliffes  was  secure  with  his 
mother,  Miss  Lane,  and  Liberty,  he  breathed  more 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     237 

freely,  and  met  the  watchful  eyes  squarely  as  he 
said  frankly : 

"I  had  not  intended  to  speak  of  my  acquaintance 
with  Victory  to  any  one  about  here,  sir.  But  since 
her  name  has  come  up  between  us  in  this  manner, 
I  can  not  well  avoid  it.  I  have  known  her  from  her 
birth.  She  is  a  remarkably  fine  girl.  I  am  the 
adopted  son  of  Hilda  Lane,  the  most  intimate  associ- 
ate of  the  Paysons." 

"Ah,  I  recall  your  name  now.  Miss  Victory 
spoke  of  you  in  connection  with  Liberty  Despard, 
who  is  proven  to  be  the  granddaughter  of  those  two 
old  mammies." 

"Indeed!  I  did  not  imagine  I  should  meet  a 
friend  of  Victory's,  but  to  stumble  upon  a  clue  to 
Liberty's  antecedents  as  still  more  astonishing.  Has 
Victory  returned  North?" 

"Yes,  she  went  several  days  ago.  Her  grand- 
parents were  my  playmates  in  childhood  and  my 
friends  always.  In  fact,  Dorothy  was  my  sweet- 
heart for  a  period,  but  the  major  cut  me  out  fairly 
enough.  Miss  Victory  is  the  counterpart  of  what 
her  grandmother  was  in  those  brave  old  days." 

The  colonel  sighed  and  meditated.  Robert  also 
reflected,  and  concluded  that  Victory  had  proven  her 
parentage  other  than  she  had  believed  when  he  had 
parted  with  her  on  the  cars  at  the  beginning  of  her 
Southern  journey.  Presently  the  elder  man  resumed 
the  conversation. 

"But  we  were  speaking  of  Liberty  Despard.  I 
regret  that  I  did  not  know  of  your  intimate  asso- 


238  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

ciation  with  her  sooner.  It  would  have  overjoyed 
those  old  mammies  to  meet  you  and  hear  whatever 
you  cared  to  tell  them  concerning  the  girl.  I  shall 
take  it  as  a  favor  if  you  will  permit  me  to  carry  you 
out  again." 

"And  I  shall  be  glad  to  accept  your  kindness, 
sir.  I  can  go  to-morrow  if  it  will  be  agreeable  to 
you." 

"Perfectly.  I  shall  be  pleased.  I  feel  a  double 
interest  in  you  now.  May  I  ask  if  you  had  a  par- 
ticular object  in  coming  South  at  this  time?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  had  an  important  errand,  which  I 
have  already  accomplished.  Aside  from  that  I  am 
anxious  to  study  Negro  life  and  character." 

"You  have  a  personal  interest  in  the  race  prob- 
lem, I  surmise,"  observed  the  colonel,  quietly. 

"Yes,  sir;  reasons  I  was  ignorant  of  until  quite 
recently,"  responded  Robert,  a  dull  wave  of  color 
suffusing  his  face. 

"Well,  it  is  a  tremendous  problem,  indeed. 
Where  is  the  prophet  that  can  foresee  the  future  or 
solve  our  difficulties?" 

"Do  we  need  a  newer  prophet  than  Him  who  said 
near  the  hour  of  His  translation,  'And  I,  if  I  be  lifted 
up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me?'  " 

"Ah,  now  I  place  you,  young  man !"  exclaimed 
the  colonel,  turning  sidewise  in  his  seat  and  observ- 
ing Robert  critically.  "Well,  you  have  visited  the 
center  of  my  plantation.  What  do  you  think  of  my 
Negroes  ?" 

"I  think  them  the  most  repulsive  looking  Ne- 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     239 

groes  I  ever  saw.  I  wondered  if  you  had  not  made 
it  a  point  to  employ  only  those  lowest  in  the  scale  of 
humanity." 

"That  is  exactly  the  point  I  have  made,"  laughed 
the  colonel.  "It  has  been  part  of  my  scheme  to  re- 
ject any  that  could  read,  write,  or  reason.  You  know 
the  adage,  'A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing.' 
A  Negro  employed  for  field  labor  has  no  need  of 
comeliness  or  intellect.  You  pronounce  my  gang 
ugly.  How,  do  you  suppose,  would  your  Northern 
kickers  against  our  Southern  sentiments  and  policies 
enjoy  living  up  to  their  'free  and  equal'  proposition, 
socially  and  politically,  with  my  particular  herd?" 

"Your  question  is  not  fairly  put,  considering  the 
principle  involved.  You  practically  impale  the  whole 
race  question  upon  my  impression  of  an  unusual 
group.  If  we  are  to  argue,  let  it  be  from  the  body 
and  not  from  an  isolated  group.  Even  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  are  heavily  weighted  with  a  following  so 
degraded  and  revolting  to  the  better  element  as  to 
appall  the  most  charitably  disposed." 

"My  query  may  appear  more  unfair  at  the  outset 
than  it  will  later.  Very  learned  physicians  some- 
times recoil  from  admitting  the  presence  of  a  pes- 
tilence in  occasional  instances,  and  seek  to  prove  the 
truth  at  fault  by  going  through  a  long  process  of 
diagnosis  by  gradual  exclusion  of  other  diseases 
with  similar  symptoms,  and  so  are  brought  at  last 
to  accept  the  once  rejected  truth.  The  case  does  not 
alter  during  the  interim,  but  the  mind  of  the  phy- 
sician reaches  a  state  of  reconciliation." 


240  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"But  very  learned  men  have  been  known  to  err, 
and  to  maintain  the  error  honestly." 

"True,  'To  err  is  human.'  I  have  had  dealings 
with  all  grades  of  Negroes  and  have  reviewed  the 
race  from  froth  to  dregs.  Once  I  declared  to  my 
better  reason :  'I  will  not  count  these  creatures  less 
than  sun-dyed,  ignorant  men  yet  plodding  in  the 
deep  ruts  from  which  their  superiors  have  arisen  to 
refinement  and  culture.'  But  when  I  had  carefully 
studied  the  scales  of  Negro  merit  through  rank  and 
file  of  living  examples,  I  was  convinced  that  the  well- 
conditioned  Negro  in  the  cottonfield  is  the  true  com- 
posite of  the  best  that  animates  the  race." 

"Possibly  your  natural  prejudice  inclined  you  to 
underrate  the  value  of  education  to  the  race." 

"Its  value  is  superficial.  A  Negro  may  be  trained 
to  mimic  the  superior  race  in  many  things — dress, 
manners,  speech.  He  is  receptive  to  a  limited  de- 
gree, but  he  has  nothing  to  give  but  brute  strength, 
and  that  is  despoiled  by  any  process  of  veneering. 
He  can  not  be  chiseled  and  polished ;  he  can  only  be 
veneered  and  varnished,  and  under  the  shell  he  re- 
mains what  his  Creator  made  him,  a  Negro.  Though 
a  hundred  times  removed  from  his  natural  sphere, 
his  innate  tendencies  survive,  repressed  perhaps,  but 
never  eradicated.  'Truth  crushed  to  earth  will  rise 
again.'  You  must  face  the  fact,  sooner  or  later, 
that  the  Negro  is  not  merely  a  white  man  browned 
by  harsh  exposures.  He  is  black  by  the  design  of 
the  All-wise.  He  is  wrought  from  especial  supplies 
of  Nature,  and  is  not  the  degeneracy  of  a  higher 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.      241 

race.  He  is  a  species,  a  harmony  entire,  a  distinct 
creation,  not  wholly  of  the  brute,  but  a  few  degrees 
nearer  the  'missing  link'  than  the  Anglo-Saxon." 

"But  he  has  intellect  that  responds  to  culture, 
soul  that  awakes  to  spiritual  impulses,  aspirations 
that  lift  him  above  the  realm  of  brute  creation. 
These  are  human  endowments.  It  is  profanity  to 
count  him  one  degree  less  than  man !" 

"Very  well.  But  there  are  distinct  orders  of 
men.  The  Negro  is  last  in  the  scale,  which  runs: 
White,  yellow,  red,  brown,  black.  You  would,  no 
doubt,  utterly  disregard  the  Negro's  fixed  position 
in  Nature's  color  scheme,  and  seek  to  bring  the  two 
extremes  together  with  the  hope  of  eventually  merg- 
ing these  natural  antagonists  into  one  body." 

"You  exaggerate  my  position,  sir.  I  do  not  ad- 
vocate indiscriminate  association.  But  fhere  may  be 
oneness  of  mind,  purpose,  organization,  endeavor; 
a  system  whose  arteries  pulsate  at  the  throb  of  one 
great  heart;  just  dealings  at  the  polls,  arid  in  all 
things  that  maintain  the  Negro's  rights  as  an  Amer- 
ican citizen,  to  the  same  extent  that  his  white  neigh- 
bor of  equal  qualification  is  privileged.  Our  prob- 
lem should  be  one  of  addition  of  strength  and  multi- 
plication of  power  to  one  end.  I  advocate  the 
brotherhood  of  mutual  helpfulness;  the  drawing  of 
human  lives  into  one  resistless  upward  movement 
toward  that  One  who  said,  'And  I,  if  I  be  lifted  up 
from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me.' " 

"Your  advocacy  smacks  of  theology  and  is  pretty 
in  theory,  but  would  scarcely  admit  of  practical 


242  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

demonstration.  Men  and  fishes  may  be  caught,  but 
it  is  another  thing  to  hold  them.  They  may  swarm 
into  a  net,  but  will  mangle  each  other  in  their  strug- 
gles to  escape  from  the  detaining  web  sooner  or 
later.  'Spurious  freedom  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than 
golden  fetters,'  think  the  masses." 

"But  there  is  a  bond  that  is  not  captivity,  and  a 
web  that  holds  but  does  not  imprison,  invoked  of 
God  and  wrought  of  brotherly  love." 

"Theoretically.  But  as  a  nation  we  would  be 
better  off  without  the  Negro.  His  rightful  heritage 
is  Africa.  Liberia  is  wooing  colonists.  The  great 
Soudan,  written  over  with  glorious  promises,  awaits 
the  people  that  will  take  possession  of  its  wealth.  A 
few  Negroes  have  ventured  forth  as  colonists  and 
missionaries,  but  where  is  the  leader  that  will  sound 
the  magical  bugle-note  and  lead  the  legions  of  Amer- 
ican-born Negroes  away  from  the  scenes  of  their 
former  captivity  to  the  land  of  their  rightful  inherit- 
ance? There  is  none  such.  As  an  individual  or  a 
race,  the  Negro  lacks  the  courage  and  independence 
that  makes  the  white  man  his  superior  in  all  things. 
He  would  rather  be  a  servant  in  the  white  man's 
land  than  to  seek  and  control  a  republic  of  his  own 
elsewhere.  We  can  not  drive  him  away.  We  would 
not  enslave  him  again  if  we  could.  We  repudiate 
the  thought  of  amalgamation.  What  then?  In 
1800  we  had  one  million  Negroes.  Now,  early  in 
the  twentieth  century,  we  have  ten  millions.  What 
shall  we  do  with  them  ?" 

"Yes,  every  eighth  member  of  Uncle  Sam's  fam- 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     243 

ily  is  a  Negro.  It  has  been  estimated  that,  in  the 
Black  Belt,  only  ten  per  cent  of  them  are  intelligent, 
and  that  nine  per  cent  of  the  greater  bulk  are  thor- 
oughly vicious.  The  outlook  is  indeed  appalling. 
There  is  but  one  righteous  way  to  alleviate  the  diffi- 
culty and  lessen  increasing  embarrassment.  You 
should  deal  with  the  Negro  as  an  unfortunate 
younger  brother  whose  manifold  shortcomings  com- 
mend him  to  your  tenderest  solicitude.  The  Anglo- 
Saxon  of  to-day  is  the  child  of  centuries  of  Christian 
enlightenment,  while  the  American  Negro  links  his 
scant  twoscore  years  of  freedom  to  three  centuries 
of  slavery,  and  that  era  to  countless  ages  of  barbar- 
ism. His  bondage  in  your  land  was  his  initiation 
into  the  portals  of  civilization.  It  was  the  gray  glim- 
mer of  dawn,  and  his  period  of  freedom  has  been 
but  the  rose-tinted  herald  of  approaching  day.  You 
can  not  separate  his  past  from  the  maze  of  darkness 
and  evil  that  shrouds  it.  The  color  of  his  skin, 
his  rugged  features,  and  his  mental  crudeness  are 
his  written  history.  But  you  can  change  his  con- 
dition, arouse  his  dormant  faculties,  unveil  his  mind, 
inspire  his  soul,  and  multiply  his  usefulness  to  your 
nation  and  to  the  world.  You  have  said  that  he  re- 
ceives, but  does  not  give.  Let  that  pass;  it  is  not 
proven.  But  he  is  a  reflective  body,  and  it  goes 
without  saying,  he  must  reflect  that  which  he  re- 
ceives, and  it  behooves  you  to  have  a  care  as  to  the 
quality  and  quantity  of  your  gift  to  him." 

"We  reason  from  different  standpoints.     You 
from  theories  drawn  from  files  of  literature — senti- 


244  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

ments  and  figures.  I  deal  with  living,  convincing 
facts.  You  have  optimistic  views.  I  have  pessi- 
mistic assurance.  But  let  us — " 

At  this  juncture  a  horseman  overtook  the  coach 
and  engaged  Colonel  Whitmore  in  a  conversation 
that  lasted  till  Buck  drew  up  in  front  of  his  master's 
home.  The  horseman  rode  on,  and  Colonel  Whit- 
more  said,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  in  the  direction 
of  his  dilapidated  residence: 

"Behold  my  castle,  young  man !  If  you  will 
accept  such  hospitality  as  I  can  offer,  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  keep  you  over  night  and  continue  our 
argument  at  our  leisure." 

"And  I  shall  be  delighted  to  remain  with  you, 
sir,"  replied  Robert.  But  as  he  stepped  upon  the 
decaying  floor  of  the  porch  a  remembrance  smote 
upon  him  like  a  flash,  and  he  halted  outside  the  door. 

"Come  in !  Welcome  to  my  castle !"  exclaimed 
the  colonel,  leading  the  way  and  turning  to  face  his 
guest. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  For  the  moment  I  had 
forgotten  that  I  was  not  entitled  to  your  courtesy. 
I  find  it  difficult  to  adjust  myself  to  the  position 
among  men  assigned  me  by  accident  of  birth.  But 
I  have  only  recently  discovered  that  a  tinge  of  black 
flows  in  my  veins  and  colors  my  future.  I  will  walk 
on  to  Nolville,  but  I  am  deeply  sensible  of  your  kind- 
ness to  me,  a  stranger.  I  thank  you,  sir." 

A  spark  seemed  to  flash  from  Colonel  Whit- 
more's  eyes  as  he  pierced  the  somber  twilight  to 


ANOTHER  SEARCHER  FOR  THE  TRUTH.     245 

fathom  the  gleaning-  depths  of  the  younger  man's 
eyes,  and  he  quickly  held  out  his  hand,  saying: 

"Ah,  you  might  have  been  a  stranger  this  morn- 
ing, but  it  is  evening  now.  Right  well  you  reflect 
the  white  man's  honesty  and  courage.  You  have 
been  gently  reared.  Come  in,  my  friend,  come  in 
and  share  with  me  the  shadows  and  the  cheer  of 
this  night.  You  are  sore-hearted  from  a  hurt  that 
has  no  cure.  Well,  so  it  is  sometimes  Fate  steals 
upon  us  unawares  and  robs  us  of  our  treasures.  Be 
at  ease.  I  have  not  lived  amidst  color  facts  in  vain. 
I  was  not  deceived.  I  sought  to  prove  how  far  you 
were  'lifted  up'  toward  your  example.  I  am  satis- 
fied. Friendship,  too,  steals  upon  us  unawares  some- 
times, and  makes  us  kindred,  spite  of  Fate.  Com- 
pensation drops  us  a  crumb;  let  us  not  despise  it. 
But  enough  of  that.  Come  in,  my  young  friend, 
come  in !" 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  murmured  Robert  Lane, 
huskily,  as  he  permitted  himself  to  be  drawn  across 
the  threshold. 


XXI 
A  LATE  CALLER. 

THE;  apartment  into  which  Colonel  Whitmore 
ushered  his  guest  was  a  low-ceiled  room,  beamed 
and  wainscoted  with  cypress  wood  darkened  by 
time.  The  floor  was  bare  and  the  windows  were 
curtainless.  The  furniture  consisted  of  several  well- 
filled  bookcases,  a  desk,  a  few  leather  chairs,  and  a 
reading  table  littered  with  newspapers  and  reviews 
and  supplied  with  a  student  lamp.  A  few  heavily- 
framed  engravings  hung  on  the  walls,  and  a  tall 
wooden  clock,  flanked  on  one  side  by  an  iron  statu- 
ette of  General  Washington  and  on  the  other  by  a 
bronze  bust  of  General  Lee,  occupied  the  carved 
mantel. 

Ruin  had  long  run  riot  in  the  once  pretentious 
mansion,  and  only  three  rooms  were  now  habitable — 
the  library,  the  colonel's  bedroom  which  opened  out 
of  it,  and  one  other  room  which  served  as  kitchen 
and  dining-room. 

The  simple  meal  was  soon  served,  and  Chloe,  the 
stout  old  housekeeper,  after  completing  her  tasks 
for  the  day,  appeared  at  the  door  in  company  with 
Buck,  to  bid  the  colonel  and  his  guest  good-night. 

"Buck,"  said  the  colonel,  detainingly,  "you  and 
246 


A  LATE  CALLER.  247 

Chloe  get  your  books  from  your  cabin  and  show 
Mr.  Lane  how  smart  you  are." 

"Yes,  sah ;  dat  's  what  we  '11  sho'ly  do !"  declared 
the  man,  exchanging  delighted  glances  with  his  wife. 

The  pair  soon  returned  and,  sitting  down  beside 
the  table  with  radiant  faces,  happily  labored  through 
a  review  of  their  hardly  acquired  accomplishments. 
But  to  Robert  the  sight  of  those  two  gray-headed 
Negroes,  responding  like  children  to  the  colonel's 
indulgent  efforts  to  show  them  off,  was  a  pathetic 
scene  that  told  its  own  story  of  long-delayed  hopes 
and  blighted  buds  of  promise  heroically  struggling 
into  feeble  growth  too  late  for  blossom  or  fruitage. 

"You  see  Buck  does  n't  intend  to  be  disfran- 
chised," explained  Colonel  Whitmore,  with  a  curious 
tremor  in  his  voice.  "He  can  read  and  write." 

"Yes,  sah,"  added  Buck,  proudly,  "an'  me  an' 
Chloe  's  got  more  'n  three  hundred  dollahs  put  away 
safe  and  sound.  I'se  dun  voted  eber  since  de  wah, 
an'  I'se  bound  to  keep  a-goin' !" 

Robert  duly  complimented  the  industrious  couple, 
and  encouraged  them  to  continue  their  efforts.  They 
had  scarcely  departed  for  their  cabin  when  a  voice 
called  aloud  from  the  darkness  without : 

"Ho,  there,  Colonel!     What  about  that  mule?" 

"Hello,  there,  Rupert !  'Light  and  come  in !" 
responded  the  colonel,  cordially.  "I  have  a  friend 
spending  the  night  with  me.  Come  in  and  welcome 
him  to  the  Sunny  South." 

Rupert  Radcliffe  had  ridden  his  horse  up  to  the 
very  portals  of  the  house.  He  dismounted,  and,  tying 


248  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  animal  to  one  of  the  sagging  posts  of  the  porch, 
stepped  into  the  house,  removing  his  hat  and  dogskin 
gloves  as  he  went.  The  mellow  lamplight  softened 
the  boldness  of  his  physique  somewhat,  but  his  pres- 
ence was  hateful  to  Robert,  who  could  scarcely  con- 
ceal his  aversion  when  he  rose  for  presentation ;  but 
the  keen  edge  of  his  revolt  was  dulled  when  his  palm 
came  into  contact  with  that  of  his  parent,  and  he  felt 
the  warm,  close  pressure  of  a  hand  strong  and  firm, 
but  padded  with  flesh  as  smooth  and  satiny  as  that 
of  a  delicate  lady.  It  was  the  hand  of  a  fastidious 
gentleman  attached  to  the  arm  of  a  man  whose  whole 
physique  was  coarse  and  dissipated. 

"Ho,  a  Northerner  come  South  to  inspect  the 
heathen,  I  '11  be  bound !  But  which  breed,  the  white 
or  black?" 

"My  principal  reason  for  coming  South  was  of  a 
personal  nature,  sir.  But  I  am  particularly  inter- 
ested in  your  Negroes." 

"No  doubt;  most  Northerners  are.  Well,  you 
are  welcome  down  in  Dixie.  We  'd  rather  have  you 
come  as  friends,  but  our  latchstrings  are  always  out 
and  our  corn  pones  are  never  too  small  to  divide  with 
friend  or  foe." 

"Do  you  consider  Northerners  your  foemen, 
sir?" 

"Ho,  I  've  a  mind  to  think  they  are,  yes !  Not 
because  they  thrashed  us  once  in  open-handed  fight 
— tore  down  our  ensigns,  exploded  our  fine  experi- 
ment at  State  sovereignty,  ripped  up  our  Confeder- 
acy, slaughtered  our  army,  desolated  our  homes,  and 


A  LATE  CALLER.  249 

blasted  our  fortunes — but  because,  in  spite  of  Appo- 
mattox,  your  Northern  autocrats  maintain  an  atti- 
tude of  suspicion.  They  keep  their  noses  near  our 
kitchens,  their  ears  at  the  keyholes  of  our  counsel 
rooms,  their  critical  eyes  upon  our  domestic  con- 
cerns, and  their  hands  upon  the  throttle  of  our  pub- 
lic affairs.  In  fact,  you  Yankees  never  let  us  forget 
that  we  were  once  your  prisoners  of  war.  You  read 
the  Constitution  to  us  by  line  and  expound  your 
theory  of  its  meaning,  expecting  us  to  accept  it  and 
shout  amen  at  every  clause." 

"There  is  a  right  way  to  read  the  written  law,  be 
it  the  Constitution,  the  ancient  law  that  underlies  it, 
or  the  simple  proposition  of  the  Golden  Rule  which 
all  men  laud." 

"Ho,  'it 's  a  poor  rule  that  won't  work  both 
ways.'  Were  we  to  denounce  some  of  your  North- 
ern practices,  invade  your  soot  holes,  pits,  and  sweat- 
shops where  women,  children,  and  disabled  men 
labor,  groan,  and  die  in  the  unequal  battle  of  weak- 
ness against  starvation,  disease,  and  oppression,  you 
would  bid  us  return  to  our  own  concerns.  And  were 
we  to  smite  your  capitalists,  and  lure  or  force  your 
toilers  into  the  specious  freedom  of  idleness,  a  law- 
less mob,  the  prey  of  every  evil,  how  would  you 
like  it?" 

"The  means  may  justify  the  end  sometimes." 

"Ho,  suppose  your  upper  tens  were  without  for- 
tune or  credit  and  were  struggling  in  the  mire  with 
the  mob,  and  at  every  attempt  to  reach  solid  ground 
were  reminded  that  'all  men  being  equal'  no  one 


250  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

might  possess  the  uplands  unless  he  could  lift  the 
whole  mob  to  a  like  position  ?  You  'd  howl, 
would  n't  you  ?  Our  niggers  were  our  property 
once,  controlled,  happy,  and  worth  their  keep;  but 
now  they  are  our  biggest  burden.  You  'd  keep  us 
yoked  with  the  black  man,  chained  ankle  to  ankle. 
That 's  equality,  you  say,  according  to  the  Consti- 
tution. 'And  so,  Mister  Southman,  whithersoever 
thou  goest  take  the  Negro  with  you !'  " 

"You  speak  in  riddles  and  wildly  exaggerate 
Northern  sentiments.  You  are  bitter  and  unreason- 
able, sir!" 

"Ho,  you  did  n't  sugarcoat  the  pills  you  made  us 
swallow  in  the  sixties !  We  're  salivated  yet.  Well, 
we  've  got  our  burden  to  tote  sure  as  fate,  but  we  'd 
feel  kinder  toward  you  Northerners  if  you  'd  make 
less  hue  and  cry  over  our  way  of  handling  our  load. 
It 's  easier  to  carry  a  load  on  your  back  than  drag  it 
along  with  your  ankles.  Try  it  and  see.  But  we  Ve 
dared  to  lift  our  heads  now.  We  're  getting  out 
of  the  rut  and  breaking  the  yokes  and  ankle  chains 
that  have  held  us  down  in  the  mire  with  our  free 
niggers.  Ho,  we  '11  carry  our  load  on  our  backs 
now  like  men  of  muscle.  We  '11  walk  where  we  've 
crept,  and,  by  jinks,  we  '11  run  when  we  can !" 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Coloned  Whitmore.  "And 
let  the  load  slip  from  our  backs?  Ha,  ha!  What 
then?" 

"Ho,  let  the  nigger  light  on  his  feet  and  give 
chase.  Live  and  let  live !  White  man  first,  black  man 
next,  and  the  fiends  take  the  hindmost !  That 's  the 


A  LATE  CAIXER.  251 

new  era  of  equality,  fraternity,  freedom,  and  liberty ! 
That 's  the  spirit  we  've  caught  from  the  North. 
It 's  the  strenuous  method  of  living  and  hustling. 
The  Yankees  used  to  kneel  to  say  their  prayers,  I  've 
heard,  and  now  they  say  them  on  the  dead  run.  But 
they  would  have  us  bite  the  dust  with  the  niggers  in 
our  devotions.  Ho,  Mister  Northerner!" 

"I  have  not  been  taught  such  theories,  sir.  All 
men  may  walk  uprightly,  carry  their  burdens  as  best 
they  can  with  due  regard  for  others,  and  live  at 
peace.  But  there  is  only  one  attitude  of  prayer  for 
men  in  any  clime  or  condition  acceptable  to  God. 
And  that  is  the  invisible  attitude  of  the  'humble  and 
contrite  heart.' " 

"Well,  we  won't  quarrel  over  our  prayers  at  any 
rate.  I  do  n't  waste  any  energy  along  that  line.  But 
I  believe  in  the  old  proverb,  'God  helps  them  that 
help  themselves.'  " 

"Ha,  ha !  so  do  our  darkies,  Rupert,"  interposed 
the  colonel.  "They  make  that  creed  the  law  and 
gospel  of  their  lives." 

"So  they  do.  They  interpret  it  to  suit  them- 
selves and  appropriate  its  benefits.  It 's  a  game  of 
touch  and  take.  That 's  freedom !  They  argue  that 
the  world,  the  South  in  particular,  owes  them  a 
living  for  all  time.  That 's  liberty  and  the  pursuit 
of  happiness.  Well,  we  're  growing  wiser.  We  've 
had  a  big  meal  of  universal  suffrage  and  foundered 
on  it.  We  're  trying  the  thirteenth  and  fifteenth 
amendments  by  another  rule.  Have  you  read  our 
new  rendition  of  the  law,  Mr.  Northerner?" 


252  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Yes.  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  the  wording 
of  your  new  provisions  respecting  suffrage,  sir, 
since  they  apply  to  black  and  white  alike.  But  I 
hope  the  spirit  of  the  action  was  worthy  of  such 
means  to  secure  the  good  of  all  concerned.  I  be- 
lieve it  so  to  be." 

"Good!  but  your  Northern  newspapers  rail  at 
the  hint  of  integrity  in  Southern  policies.  You  are 
not  well  instructed." 

"There  are  falsifiers  of  every  creed  and  traitors 
to  every  law,  you  know,  sir.  Some  of  our  papers 
are  rabid,  no  doubt;  but  as  a  rule  our  people  are 
generous  and  wish  to  be  just.  But  your  own  press 
is  skeptical  of  Northern  sentiments,  and  imputes  to 
us  unmerited  harshness  of  opinion  and  judgment. 
There  should  be  more  faith  between  us  and  less  of 
doubt  and  unkind  criticism.  We  are  one  family, 
one  nation ;  we  have  but  one  flag,  one  God,  and 
should  be  at  peace." 

"Ho,  and  at  our  lessons !  Well,  North  and  South 
are  friendly  enemies  at  worst,  and  need  no  go- 
between.  We  '11  meet  and  wrestle  when  we  please, 
and  speak  our  minds  to  one  another,  and  now  and 
then  concede  each  other  homage.  But  for  our  com- 
mon good,  why,  then  we  're  one ;  and  the  fiends  take 
the  foreigner  that  spits  at  either.  Ho,  let  us  be 
friends,  Mr.  Northerner !  We  've  had  our  bluster. 
It  takes  two  hands  to  make  a  shake.  Here  's  one 
for  the  South !" 

Rupert  Radcliffe's  jovial  breeziness  of  voice  and 
manner  was  irresistible.  Impelled  by  the  impulses 


A  LATE  CAI^ER.  253 

of  patriotism  and  generosity,  Robert  rose  quickly 
and  laid  his  hand  into  that  of  his  father.  A  puzzled 
expression  swept  over  the  older  man's  countenance 
as  he  contemplated  the  young  Northerner's  face. 

"You  remind  me  of  some  one  I  have  known,  Mr. 
Lane.  Is  this  your  first  visit  to  the  South?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Ho,  a  chance  resemblance  then.  Well,  Colonel, 
I  '11  have  to  mosey  home  now.  What  about  that 
mule  ?' 

"The  mule  is  at  your  service  if  you  '11  fetch  it 
from  the  plantation.  But  stay  awhile,  Rupert.  Let 
my  young  friend's  nerves  tingle  with  the  weird  mu- 
sical story  of  our  past,  as  you  so  well  know  how  to 
improvise  it,"  said  Colonel  Whitmore,  drawing  a 
black  case  from  beneath  his  desk  and  lifting  out  of 
it  a  rare  old  violin. 

"Ho,  you  know  my  lame  foot,  Colonel,  don't 
you?"  exclaimed  Rupert  Radcliffe,  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure lighting  up  his  face  and  changing  its  whole  char- 
acter. Carefully  rubbing  his  hands  with  his  yellow 
silk  handkerchief,  he  took  up  the  instrument  as  if  a 
sacred  treasure  had  been  committed  to  his  care. 

During  the  next  hour  Robert  Lane  realized  that 
within  his  father's  gross  hulk  of  flesh  the  exquisite 
soul  of  music  held  its  sway.  Faintly  a  dreamy  revery 
stole  upon  the  air  like  an  echo  of  days  long  gone, 
and  gradually  glided  into  a  medley  of  old  plantation 
melodies,  which  were  succeeded  by  a  reflective  pas- 
sage, the  real  prelude  of  what  was  to  follow.  For 
then,  in  low,  chanting  tones,  the  artist  began  to  ac- 


254  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

company  the  music,  so  skillfully  wrought  from  string 
and  bow,  with  a  word  interpretation  of  the  varying 
changes  in  the  wonderful  fantasia.  So  perfectly  did 
the  rhythmical  undertones  explain  and  enhance  the 
thrilling  strains  of  music,  whether  meditative,  stately, 
brilliant,  tragic,  jubilant,  despairing,  hauntingly  sad, 
or  plaintively  sweet,  that  nothing  was  left  to  be 
imagined  or  desired. 

It  began  in  halls,  magnificent  with  pomp  and 
wealth,  amid  scenes  where  beauty  and  chivalry  and 
brilliancy  allured  the  mind  and  senses,  but  stupified 
the  soul.  Then  the  music  glided  into  labor's  hum, 
and  various  hints  of  industry  and  traffic  were -min- 
gled with  raileries,  barterings,  pleas  of  weariness, 
harsh  commands,  cries  for  mercy,  growls  of  stub- 
bornness, the  cutting  lash,  and  scream  of  agony. 
But  fierceness  and  despair  were  broken  soon,  with 
witless  jests,  snatches  of  song,  sullen  complaints, 
and  secret  sighs  of  sympathy,  till  all  sounds  blent 
or  sank  into  the  common  din  of  labor's  hum  and 
hum,  hum,  hum. 

And  then  from  things  discordant  the  scene 
changed  to  cheerfulness.  Blue  skies  overarched 
merry  birds  on  wing,  fragrance  of  bloom,  and  shim- 
mering fields  of  growing  crops,  where  contented 
toilers  swung  bright-bladed  hoes  between  long  rows 
of  corn  and  cotton,  whistling,  singing,  or  calling  to 
each  other  through  busy,  sunny  hours.  And  then 
night  slowly  crept  up  from  the  east,  and  the  flaming 
sun  rolled  down  the  west.  Twilight  prevailed,  and 
homeward  trod  the  dusky  throng  of  laborers — age 


A  LATE;  CALLER.  255 

laggingly,  prime  leisurely,  youth  boisterously,  child- 
hood fretfully,  and  all  wearily.  Cabins  were  in- 
vaded, simple  food  divided,  confidences  exchanged, 
prospects  reviewed.  Idle  gibes,  vacant  laughter, 
mockeries,  plaints,  and  bickerings  subsided.  The 
wails  of  hungry  picaninnies  satisfied  ceased,  and 
crooning  mothers  nodded.  Sounds  of  day  died  out, 
and  flippancies  and  miseries,  emotions,  all  grew 
faint.  Sleep  stole  into  the  cabins,  kissed  each  dusky 
eyelid,  and  brooded  through  the  quiet  night.  One  by 
one  the  constant  stars  grew  brighter  in  the  high 
dome  of  hovering  skies,  and  silence  reigned  in  the 
cottonfields. 

Again  the  scene  was  changed.  It  was  Sabbath 
morning,  the  time  for  semi-idleness  and  gossip.  Joys 
and  woes  measured  their  gains ;  love-making  pros- 
pered; banjos  were  in  evidence;  picaninnies  danced 
and  shrieked  in  glee.  But  later  on  a  sound  grew 
and  deepened,  attained  solemnity,  and  vibrated  with 
the  travesty  of  crude  exhortations  and  painful 
prayer.  Wails,  groans,  howls,  and  wild  implorings 
for  deliverance  from  bondage  long  endured  chal- 
lenged the  Invisible.  Vows  of  faith,  contrite  con- 
fessions of  sins,  longings,  passionate  appeals  and 
promises  leaped  from  untutored  lips  to  ease  dis- 
tracted hearts,  till  overwrought  emotions  broke  in 
tears  and  softer  moods  relieved  the  strain  with  whis- 
perings of  better  days. 

And  then  dire  mutterings  confused  the  scene. 
A  bugle-note  marshaled  opposing  hosts  to  battle. 
Frenzied  armies  met,  reveled  in  blood,  and  met 


256  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

again,  and  oft  again  recoiled,  re-enforced,  and  met 
again,  O  pity  of  it !  And  always  there  were  shrieks 
of  torture,  dying  moans  and  prayers,  and  hush  of 
death,  added  to  ghastly  tragedies  of  gun  and  sword 
and  deadly  hate. 

But  suddenly  a  thrilling  note  chastened  the  lurid 
atmosphere.  Triumphant  music  conquered  the  din, 
and  over  the  crimson-stained  hills  Freedom  came 
singing  along,  the  harbinger  of  Peace.  The  furious 
clamor  died  away  to  distant  echoes,  but  Sorrow 
trailed  her  somber  robes  through  paths  of  desola- 
tion and  wept  in  bitterness  of  spirit.  Regretful 
Memory  lingered  on  desecrated  fields  and  haunted 
silent  hills  where  camped  the  slaughtered  sons  of 
North  and  South. 

Again  night  stole  from  the  east.  The  glorious 
sun  rolled  into  the  western  sea,  and  twilight  flung 
her  veil  of  gauzy  gray  between  the  fleeting  light  of 
day  and  darksome  shades  of  night.  Sad  Revery 
bared  her  heart  to  wooing  pains,  and  wrung  her 
ghostly  hands  in  voiceless  grief.  The  constant  stars 
gleamed  from  their  high  estate  as  in  those  olden 
days,  and  silence  reigned  in  the  cottonfields  of  broad 
plantations.  An  owl  hooted  where  the  big  house 
had  stood,  a  mateless  dove  mourned  in  the  jasmine 
bush  by  the  well,  and  down  the  lover's  lane  a  whip- 
poor-will  gave  forth  his  plaintive  note.  The  west 
wind  came  sobbing  over  the  fallow  cornfield,  swung 
open  the  sagging  doors  of  empty  cabins,  and  bent 
within  to  whisper  sad  tales  of  wretched  black  forms 
astray  from  sheltering  roof,  flitting  hither  and  thither 


A  LATE  CALLER.  257 

for  food,  raiment,  peace ;  strangely  forlorn  and  hope- 
less in  their  new  paradise  of  Freedom. 

And  then  a  heavy  mist  ascended  from  the  moan- 
ing river  at  the  west,  floated  inland,  obscured  the 
old  plantation  from  the  watchful  stars,  smothered 
the  sighing  night-breeze,  spangled  the  shuddering 
pine-trees,  baptized  the  whispering  grasses,  and 
moistened  the  parching  earth  with  cooling  pledge 
of  larger  gifts.  And  then  all  things  quivered  and 
slept. 

Never  in  his  life  had  the  emotions  of  Robert 
Lane  been  so  thrilled  and  charmed,  so  pained  and 
raptured.  And  aside  from  the  effect  of  the  weird 
fantasia  he  had  felt  the  magnetism  of  the  man,  whose 
eyes  had  scarcely  wandered  from  his  own  during 
the  performance. 

When  the  last  wavering  tone  had  ceased  the 
sound  of  convulsive  sobs  outside  the  window  nearest 
the  player  attracted  his  attention. 

"Ho,  Buck,  you  rascal!"  he  exclaimed.  "Cut 
that  racket  short !  I  '11  play  your  favorite."  Almost 
instantly  the  room  was  filled  with  the  lively  strains 
of  a  Negro  melody  that  drew  expressions  of  delight 
from  the  old  couple,  who  were  thus  encouraged  to 
show  their  tear-wet  faces  above  the  window  sill. 

After  this  indulgence  the  artist  gave  his  atten- 
tion to  the  strings  of  his  instrument  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then,  drawing  his  bow  across  them  with 
a  peculiarly  effective  action,  swept  into  the  grandeur 
of  a  selection  from  the  compositions  of  an  old  mas- 
ter. It  was  the  climax  of  the  musician's  perform- 
17 


258  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

ances,  and  observing  the  enhancement  of  his  listen- 
ers he  improvised  a  fantastic  refrain,  which  finally 
melted  into  the  atmosphere  like  an  uncertain  whisper. 

"Ho,  I  '11  mosey  home  now,  Colonel !"  announced 
the  player,  suddenly  loosening  the  strings  of  the 
violin  and  laying  it  on  the  table. 

The  colonel  started,  and  Robert,  too,  blinked 
half-dazedly  as  the  remarkable  violinist  hastily  drew 
on  his  gloves,  stepped  to  the  door  and,  with  a  fare- 
well wave  of  his  hand,  flung  on  his  hat  and  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness  without. 

"I  always  forgive  Rupert  Radcliffe's  shortcom- 
ings when  he  plays  like  that.  He  is  truly  a  master 
of  the  fiddle  and  the  bow,"  commented  the  colonel, 
presently. 

"I  would  never  have  suspected  him  of  such  talent. 
It  is  a  marvelous  gift,"  responded  Robert  Lane, 
leaning  toward  the  window  and  listening  to  the 
thudding  hoof-beats  of  the  animal  that  was  swiftly 
bearing  the  late  caller  away  from  the  memory  be- 
leaguered ruins  of  Colonel  Whitmore's  castle. 


XXII. 
THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT. 

WHEN  Robert  Lane  awakened  from  his  night's 
sleep  on  the  cot  Colonel  Whitmore  had  prepared  for 
him  in  the  library,  it  was  to  find  the  new  day  dawn- 
ing through  lowering  clouds.  Before  the  morning 
meal  was  over  the  rain  was  falling  heavily. 

"Come,"  said  Colonel  Whitmore,  rising  from  the 
breakfast  table  and  leading  the  way  to  an  unused 
room,  through  the  ceiling  of  which  the  rain  was 
pouring  in  numerous  places,  "I  will  show  you  the 
passage  to  my  little  vale  of  rest." 

He  paused  beside  a  sashless  window,  and  Robert 
saw  a  strip  of  greensward  stretched  like  a  ribbon 
between  two  long  rows  of  weeping  willows,  whose 
storm-driven  strands  reached  to  the  ground  and 
swept  to  and  fro  with  the  swishing  sound  of  sea 
billows.  For  awhile  the  pair  stood  silently  watching 
the  willows  writhe  under  the  lashing  torrents.  The 
deeply  indented  pathway  through  the  middle  of  the 
greensward  had  become  a  miniature  river,  into  which 
sheets  of  water  drained  from  either  side.  Presently 
Robert  asked : 

"Is  that  a  hedge  at  yonder  end  of  the  passage  ?" 

"No,  it  is  a  Rose  of  Sharon;  but  it  hides  the 
259 


260  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

opening  into  a  myrtle-hedged  inclosure,  within  which 
is  my  vale  of  rest.  The  dust  of  several  generations 
of  Whitmores  lies  there,  and  along  the  east  edge 
a  row  of  numbered  hillocks  marks  where  the  ele- 
ments reclaimed  a  portion  of  our  colored  folk.  I 
sometimes  find  myself  wishing  that  all  of  those 
who  went  out  from  my  care  on  Freedom's  day  were 
lying  along  that  east  hedge  in  my  little  vale.  They 
would  be  better  off,  I  fancy,  and  I  would  be  richer 
in  content." 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  swirl  of  flinging  branches. 
The  tempest  of  wind  and  rain  had  suddenly  ceased, 
but  the  sky  was  still  leaden,  and  the  willows  kept 
wringing  their  dripping  strands  to  a  soft  lullaby  of 
running  waters. 

"Why  along  the  east  edge  ?"  asked  Robert,  medi- 
tatively. 

"We  bury  men  with  their  feet  to  the  east,  do  we 
not?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  see — and  their  servants  at  their  feet." 

Colonel  Whitmore  nodded  assent,  and  turning 
about  led  the  way  to  the  library.  He  took  a  parch- 
ment roll  from  his  desk  and  spread  it  out  on  the 
table.  It  was  the  plan  of  the  cemetery. 

"Here  is  the  numbered  row  along  the  east  edge," 
he  explained.  "The  last  six  in  the  row  are  the  graves 
of  former  slaves  of  my  own,  who  asked  for  the 
privilege  of  burial  in  the  row  after  their  freedom. 
The  last  was  an  old  man  who  came  many  miles  to 
die  on  the  plantation,  so  that  he  might  f)e  buried 
under  the  myrtle  hedge  close  to  the  family  he  once 


THE  KSRNEI,  OF  THE;  NUT.  261 

served.  Chloe  made  him  comfortable  in  one  of  my 
unused  rooms.  I  asked  him  what  I  could  do  to  in- 
crease his  comfort  or  happiness,  and  he  caught  my 
hands  and  kissed  them  because  of  the  welcome  I 
had  given  him,  which  was  poor  enough,  God  knows. 
Tse  jes'  wanter  rest,  Massa,'  he  said.  Tse  jes' 
wanter  lay  dar  inside  de  hedge  so  de  heabenly 
angels  '11  know  I  b'longs  to  de  Whitmo's,  an'  so  oT 
Massa  '11  take  care  ob  me  in  de  Glorylan'.  Well,  we 
laid  him  in  the  row.  I  dug  the  grave  myself." 

"That  was  a  kind  act,  Colonel  Whitmore.  My 
Master  said,  'Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it 
unto  Me.'  That  is  the  watchword  of  Aunt  Hilda's 
life.  How  often  she  has  reminded  me  that  a  kindly 
deed  always  lifts  up  more  than  one." 

"Just  before  the  old  darky  died  I  sat  down  beside 
his  bed  and  took  his  hand.  'What  can  I  do  for  you, 
Uncle  Rube  ?'  I  asked.  'Jes'  ask  de  heabenly  angels 
to  tell  ol*  Massa  Whitmo'  dat  I  '11  be  dar  at  de  big 
golden  gate  in  de  mawnin'/  he  replied.  I  sat  there 
dumb  as  an  ox.  'Pray,  Mars'  Ralph,'  he  pleaded.  I 
motioned  to  Buck,  who  dropped  to  his  knees  and 
prayed  as  became  a  simple  child  of  faith.  And  that 
is  why  I  dug  old  Rube's  grave.  I  had  exchanged 
tasks  with  Buck,  and  would  not  be  defrauded  of  my 
chosen  part.  But  enough  of  that.  We  shall  be 
obliged  to  give  up  our  trip  to  the  plantation  to-day. 
How  shall  we  pass  the  time  ?" 

"I  think  I  ought  to  return  to  Nolville,  sir.  I  do 
not  wish  to  trespass  upon  your  time." 


262  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  wish  you  to  remain  with  me  to-day.  I  am 
wholly  at  your  service  at  present." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  would  like  above  all  else  to 
hear  more  of  your  experiences  with  the  Negroes. 
I  intend  to  devote  my  life  to  their  betterment." 

"You  will  find  the  cause  an  unprofitable  invest- 
ment for  your  energy  and  ability,  young  man." 

"  I  believe  I  shall  receive  my  reward  as  I  go 
along." 

"That  remains  to  be  proven.  You  have  said 
that  you  but  recently  discovered  your  connection 
with  the  race.  Did  the  knowledge  cause  you  to 
waver  from  a  previously  chosen  career?" 

"I  aspired  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel,  sir ;  but 
I  shall  be  content  to  labor  in  any  capacity  that  will 
most  surely  benefit  my  people." 

"You  would  like  to  hear  something  of  my  experi- 
ences. Well,  I  have  been  working  a  scheme  for 
years  and  have  had  numerous  experiences.  People 
call  me  a  skinflint.  Well,  there  is  a  law  of  compen- 
sation. At  the  outbreak  of  the  Rebellion  my  credit 
was  good  for  half  a  million.  While  we  were  yet 
confident  of  sustaining  the  Confederacy  I  borrowed 
a  large  sum  on  my  slaves  to  help  the  cause.  At  the 
close  of  the  war  my  fortune  was  gone ;  my  home  was 
in  ruins ;  my  wife,  shattered  by  the  disasters  of  the 
conflict,  died  in  my  arms  an  hour  after  my  return 
from  the  battlefields.  Enough  of  that. 

"The  second  year  brought  a  few  of  my  old  slaves 
back  to  me,  glad  to  work  for  moderate  wages.  But 
the  general  run  of  free  Negroes  were  demoralized 


THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT.  263 

and  full  of  self-importance.  They  considered  the 
planter  obligated  to  them  and  barely  made  a  show  of 
work,  dragging  the  crops  through  half  cultivated, 
with  scant  profit  to  the  planter.  They  were  restless, 
and,  anxious  to  make  the  most  of  their  freedom, 
devoted  their  evenings  to  gatherings  of  various 
kinds,  carousing  away  the  hours  needed  for  sleep. 
They  were  resentful  of  supervision,  and  irritable  if 
urged  to  honest  effort.  I  became  disgusted  with  the 
swagger  of  the  too  free  and  easy  nigger.  I  faced 
the  situation  squarely,  and  argued  that  the  law 
which  had  put  me  into  the  bondage  of  debt,  through 
the  freeing  of  my  slaves,  should  give  me  freedom 
through  the  bondage  of  Negroes.  For  twenty  years 
I  have  worked  on  that  principle.  I  consider  it  a  law 
of  compensation." 

"Is  it  identical  with  peonage,  sir?" 

"It  is  commonly  classified  under  that  name. 
Northerners  call  it  involuntary  slavery  under  a  new 
name.  But  I  sought  a  means  to  a  worthy  end,  and 
believed  that  I  was  justified  in  undertaking  to  extri- 
cate myself  from  debt  through  the  frailties  and  cre- 
dulity of  the  race  through  which  my  misfortune 
came.  Do  you  understand  my  premise?" 

"I  think  I  do." 

"But  while  I  have  used  politic  measures  with  ad- 
vantages on  my  side,  I  have  not  worked  my  scheme 
revengefully.  I  had  rebelled  against  paying  for 
service  that  fell  short  of  the  contract  entered  upon, 
but  I  was  willing  to  pay,  and  have  paid,  a  living 
price  for  labor  actually  received.  No  man  can  do 


264  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

more  than  a  day's  work  in  a  given  time,  but  the 
average  Negro  will  manage  to  do  less  than  his  best, 
and  expects  full  pay.  He  works  from  sheer  neces- 
sity, not  from  choice.  If  you  quibble  or  refuse  to 
pay  for  shortage,  he  considers  himself  unfairly 
treated,  abused,  defrauded.  Enough  of  that.  A  man 
who  fails  to  profit  by  his  experiences  is  a  fool. 

"I  discovered  that  there  was  more  profit  in  one 
well  cultivated  acre,  all  things  considered,  than  in 
four  poorly  tilled.  I  cut  down  on  my  acreage,  and, 
instead  of  hiring  the  shiftless  class  that  demanded 
much  for  little,  began  to  pick  my  labor,  search  for  it 
in  fact,  as  a  shrewd  man  hunts  for  an  investment 
that  is  likely  to  yield  a  moderate  dividend  at  least. 

"I  had  found  that  the  Negro  with  ideas  of  inde- 
pendence in  his  head  was  a  losing  investment  in  a 
cotton  row,  and  that  the  Negro  who  chose  to  labor 
in  my  particular  field,  as  the  lesser  of  t^vo  evils,  was 
the  one  I  wanted.  But  I  found  it  wise  to  discrimi- 
nate even  in  that  class.  I  therefore  framed  a  set  of 
requirements,  from  which  I  have  not  deviated  except 
in  one  instance — the  case  of  my  present  overseer,  a 
mulatto.  I  will  explain  my  reason  for  wavering  in 
his  favor  later. 

"I  demanded  the  able-bodied  Negro,  born  in 
slavery  of  a  field  wench.  He  must  come  to  me  di- 
rectly from  the  hands  of  so-called  civil  authority, 
having  completed  a  term  in  a  chain-gang,  being  one 
for  whom  new  charges  were  waiting  execution.  He 
must  be  unable  to  read,  write,  or  play  on  the  banjo  or 
other  like  instrument.  He  must  be  innocent  of  the 


THE;  KERNED  OF  THE;  NuT.  265 

value  of  the  ballot-box,  of  political  desires,  religious 
fervors,  and  intellectual  aspirations.  In  short,  I  de- 
manded one  devoid  of  ambition  to  rise  above  his 
natural  condition. 

"I  favored  Dan,  in  spite  of  his  being  a  half- 
breed,  simply  because  of  the  discovery  that  he  was 
born  on  my  own  plantation.  He  was  a  child  in  arms 
when  freedom  was  declared.  His  mother  had  wan- 
dered farther  South,  and  continued  to  be  a  field 
laborer  through  lack  of  ability  to  better  herself.  Her 
child  matured  in  very  adverse  surroundings,  and  de- 
veloped into  a  criminal.  But  she  had  the  affection 
for  her  offspring,  common  to  mothers,  and  while  he 
was  serving  a  term  in  the  chain-gang  some  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  south  of  here,  she  learned  in  a  round- 
about way  that  I  was  employing  convict  labor,  and 
walked  the  entire  distance  up  here  to  beg.  me  to 
secure  him  from  the  authorities  upon  his  release,  be- 
fore his  conviction  upon  another  charge  which  was 
pending.  I  felt  bound  to  give  the  fellow  a  trial. 
I  bought  his  second  term  of  chain-gang  labor,  and 
have  never  regretted  it." 

"And  the  old  mother,  sir?"  said  Robert  Lane, 
anxiously. 

"Ah,  the  old  mother  lived  contentedly  in  a  cabin 
with  Dan  on  the  plantation  for  five  years.  She  is 
sleeping  under  the  myrtle  hedge  in  my  little  vale 
of  rest." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  and  pardon  my  interruption," 
said  Robert,  feelingly. 

"Certainly.    You  now  comprehend  why  my  Ne- 


266  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

groes  are  so  remarkably  uncouth.  They  are  a  care- 
fully selected  group.  They  are  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
Under  control  as  I  have  them,  they  represent  the 
Negro  at  his  highest  value.  He  is  the  natural  Adam 
of  the  soil,  created  to  earn  his  bread  by  the  sweat 
of  his  brow. 

"I  am  a  rigid  master.  One  offense  is  a  grave 
matter,  but  the  second  means  discharge  with  unde- 
sirable consequences.  Having  worked  out  their 
fines,  my  lot  are  now  bound  to  my  service  by  volun- 
tary contract.  They  work  so  many  hours  per  day 
for  certain  wages,  and  agree  to  remain  on  the  plan- 
tation day  and  night  unless  leave  of  absence  is  given 
them  by  proper  authority.  Furthermore,  the  con- 
tracts are  so  worded  that  they  may  be  closed  at  the 
option  of  either  the  first  or  second  party  with  cer- 
tain provisions,  or  without  provisions,  if  I  choose 
to  waive  them." 

"May  I  ask  what  the  provisions  are,  sir?" 

"Ah,  now  we  are  getting  down  to  the  kernel  of 
the  nut,  young  man.  The  provision  is  this:  If 
through  offense  I  have  occasion  to  discharge  an  indi- 
vidual, I  am  to  return  him  to  the  authorities  from 
whose  hands  I  received  him.  If  on  the  other  hand 
an  individual  desires  to  break  the  contract  during 
the  year,  or  at  the  expiration  of  the  yearly  contract, 
I  am  to  return  him  to  the  authorities  from  whose 
hands  I  received  him.  Do  you  see  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  perfectly.  I  am  reminded  of  the  old 
saw :  'A  nought 's  a  nought,  and  a  figger  's  a  figger. 
All  for  the  white  man,  and  nothing  for  the  nigger !'  " 


THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NuT.  267 

"Precisely.  But  if  we  mutually  agree  to  sever 
our  relations,  I  may  waive  the  provision  and  secure 
the  individual's  signature  to  a  promise  that  he  will 
leave  the  vicinity  and  never  return,  or  seek  to  com- 
municate with  any  of  my  employees,  without  my 
permission." 

"But  what  dominant  power  holds  these  men  to 
their  contracts  ?" 

"Fear  coupled  with  ignorance.  They  regard  a 
formal  document  to  which  they  have  set  their  mark 
a  powerful  instrument  of  the  law.  A  term  in  a 
chain-gang  is  not  quickly  forgotten,  and  such  con- 
victs are  usually  conscious  of  transgressions  beyond 
the  one  expiated.  In  some  localities  it  often — I 
might  say  generally — occurs  that  a  convict  is  re- 
leased from  one  term  of  service  only  to  confront 
another  charge,  which  being  presented  in  writing  is 
all  that  is  necessary  to  convince  the  illiterate  Negro 
of  the  impossibility  of  escaping  the  full  penalty  of 
his  crimes,  even  though  he  is  innocent  of  the  par- 
ticular one  imputed  to  him.  He  therefore  comes 
from  the  chain-gang  disciplined,  and  with  the  belief 
that  the  law,  having  got  a  grip  upon  him,  is  not 
likely  to  let  go  till  fully  appeased. 

"There  is  a  form  of  peonage  scarcely  preferable 
to  chain-garig  labor.  But  in  the  case  of  my  Negroes, 
I  do  not  consider  that  I  am  defrauding  them  of  any- 
thing to  which  they  are  entitled.  Free  from  re- 
straint, and  the  fear  of  a  worse  form  of  servitude, 
they  would  be  a  lazy,  lawless  horde,  a  curse  to  them- 
selves, and  a  menace  to  the  welfare  of  others.  On 


268  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

my  plantation  they  have  the  necessities  of  life,  are 
practically  free  from  dangerous  temptations,  are  pro- 
moting prosperity,  and  by  the  terms  of  a  special  com- 
pact are  learning  responsibility  and  accountability 
as  individuals  and  as  members  of  a  body." 

"Is  the  special  compact  a  written  bond?" 

"Yes.  It  is  a  contract  between  me  and  them- 
selves as  a  body  intact.  It  is  separate  and  distinct 
from  their  yearly  contracts  as  individuals.  Ten 
years  ago  I  found  myself  in  command  of  a  force 
of  governable  Negroes,  and  was  anxious  to  retain 
them  for  a  term  of  years.  For  several  years  my 
crops  had  been  exceedingly  profitable,  and  I  had 
largely  decreased  my  debt.  I  concluded  to  add  to 
my  acreage  if  I  could  get  additional  labor  of  the  sort 
I  wanted.  But  there  was  some  risk  in  bringing  in 
a  number  of  new  hands  at  one  time.  I  devised  a  new 
scheme  and  explained  it  to  the  gang. 

"I  proposed  drawing  up  a  contract  for  them  to 
sign  as  a  body,  with  a  provision  that  the  failure  of 
one  individual  to  keep  the  terms  of  the  agreement 
would  release  me  from  my  obligation  and  render  the 
contract  void." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  the  contract  was  bona 
fide  on  your  part,  sir?" 

"Certainly,  young  man.  'The  devil  is  seldom  as 
black  as  painted!'  But  enough  of  that.  By  the 
terms  of  the  instrument  the  body  was  to  continue 
in  my  service  exactly  in  accordance  with  their  yearly 
contracts,  but  positively  without  the  failure  of  a 
single  signer  to  fulfill  his  part  for  a  period  of  five 


KERNEIv  OF  THE   NuT.  269 

years,  except  in  case  of  death  on  the  grounds.  In 
accordance  with  the  terms  of  the  guaranty  I  agreed 
to  pay  over  to  the  body  one-third  of  the  profits  of 
the  crop  of  the  fifth  season.  This  over  and  above 
their  regular  wages. 

"I  gave  the  gang  a  week  to  consider  the  matter, 
and  again  met  them  in  council.  Their  chosen 
speaker  made  what  appeared  to  me  a  very  singular 
request.  He  asked  that  I  discharge  my  white  over- 
seer and  four  guards.  The  gang  proposed  to  accept 
my  proposition  upon  that  ground.  By  investigation 
I  found  that  the  surveillance  of  my  guards  was  hate- 
ful to  the  Negroes,  who  proposed  taking  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  new  contract  into  their  own  hands  by 
constituting  each  member  of  the  body  a  watch  over 
his  fellows,  choosing  one  of  their  number  as  over- 
seer, who  was  to  act  under  my  personal  supervision. 

"I  was  taken  aback  at  this  crude  attempt  at  dic- 
tation, but  finally  arranged  a  compromise.  I  dis- 
charged the  guards  and  permitted  the  gang  to  select 
an  assistant  overseer,  who  was  to  act  under  and  with 
the  white  director,  and  in  conjunction  with  the  white 
manager  of  the  general  supply  store  of  the  settle- 
ment. I  was  uneasy  for  a  time,  but  without  grounds. 

"I  secured  extra  laborers  and  increased  my  acre- 
age of  cotton.  The  new  members  signed  the  con- 
tract quite  willingly,  and  every  signer  immediately 
became  suspicious  and  watchful  of  his  fellows.  'Set 
a  thief  to  watch  a  thief,'  you  know. 

"Everything  moved  along  prosperously  until  the 
fifth  crop  of  cotton  was  in  bloom.  The  whole  gang 


270  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

was  enthused  with  the  prospect  of  the  largest  crop 
of  cotton  we  had  ever  picked.  Something  like  pride 
shone  in  every  ugly  face,  and  made  it  appear  less 
stupid  and  brutal.  Jack,  the  great  burly  Negro 
chosen  as  assistant  overseer,  was  particularly  jubi- 
lant, and  was  constantly  curbing  slothful  tendencies 
of  several  of  the  gang  with  reminders  of  the  splendid 
outlook  for  the  nigger  share  of  the  profits." 

"But  what  happened  when  the  fifth  crop  was  in 
bloom,  sir?" 

"Ah,  I  would  like  to  omit  that;  but  it  demon- 
strates the  laws  of  nature,  besides  being  of  value  to 
the  student  of  Negro  development. 

"When  the  cotton  was  in  bloom  that  year  the 
mother  of  Dan,  my  present  overseer,  lay  dying  in 
her  cabin,  and  asked  me  to  bring  a  white  minister 
to  pray  for  her.  In  her  youth  she  had  been  im- 
pressed with  the  religious  counsels  of  my  mother. 
I  succeeded  in  getting  a  minister  from  Nolville.  He 
prayed  with  the  old  sinner  to  her  satisfaction,  and 
then  I  took  him  home.  He  knew  that  visitors  were 
not  wanted  at  the  plantation  unless  invited,  but  in 
recounting  his  experience  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
negress,  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  during  the  pres- 
ence of  a  woman  of  strong  missionary  proclivities, 
he  failed  to  make  that  point  sufficiently  plain,  I  sup- 
pose. At  any  rate,  without  disclosing  her  intention, 
the  woman  procured  a  horse  and  buggy  the  next 
day,  filled  a  basket  with  dainties,  and  drove  out  to 
the  plantation  to  minister  to  the  negress.  She  was 
tying  her  horse  under  a  clump  of  trees  when  Jack 


THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT.  271 

discovered  her,  and  speedily  informed  her  that  vis- 
itors were  not  allowed  on  the  premises.  But  the 
woman  resented  his  interference,  and  yielding  to  a 
swift  and  beastly  passion  Jack  attacked  her.  Hear- 
ing smothered  screams,  the  white  director  and  old 
Dinah  ran  to  the  rescue.  Frantic  with  fright  and 
seriously  injured,  the  woman  got  into  her  buggy  and 
succeeded  in  reaching  home  and  telling  her  wretched 
story  before  utterly  collapsing.  Of  course,  Nolville 
was  instantly  aroused,  and  a  mob  of  infuriated  white 
men  lost  no  time  in  starting  for  the  plantation. 

"In  the  meantime  the  story  had  swept  over  the 
plantation.  The  Negroes  left  their  work  and  hur- 
ried to  the  settlement,  realizing  what  Jack's  fate 
would  be  sooner  or  later.  The  fellow  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  timber  back  of  the  buildings,  and  some 
of  the  Negroes  suggested  assisting  him  to  fly,  others 
favored  hiding  him  and  defying  the  mob  that  would 
surely  be  oncoming.  Another  declared  that  resist- 
ance was  useless,  as  Jack  would  surely  be  caught 
and  executed  without  mercy. 

"It  was  Dan  who  suddenly  remembered  the  spe- 
cial contract  and  its  terms.  With  his  longing  eyes 
fixed  on  the  cotton-fields  that  lay  shimmering  in  the 
afternoon  sunshine  like  a  foam-flecked  sea  of  green, 
he  muttered :  'Jack  's  boun'  to  die  anyhow.  If  he 
dies  on  the  plantation  the  contract  will  hold  good.' 

"The  words  were  caught  up  and  repeated.  A 
portentous  calm  fell  upon  the  Negroes  as  they  too, 
one  by  one,  turned  their  eyes  toward  the  beautiful 
prospect.  Then  they  looked  at  each  other,  furtively 


272  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

at  first,  boldly  at  last,  with  gleaming  eyes  and  lick- 
ing tongues.  There  were  low  growls  and  mutter- 
ings,  and  a  simultaneous  movement  toward  the  tim- 
ber where  Jack  had  hidden.  God !  enough  of  that ! 

"When  the  mob  from  Nolville  reached  the  plan- 
tation at  sundown,  the  settlement  was  illumined  with 
a  bonfire,  and  suspended  from  the  great  crane  pro- 
jecting from  the  gable  of  the  warehouse  the  limp 
body  of  poor  Jack  was  swinging  to  and  fro  like  a 
pendulum." 

"Did  the  contract  hold  good,  sir  ?"  asked  Robert, 
quickly,  wishing  to  forget  the  picture  his  fancy  had 
conjured  up. 

"Yes.  Jack  died  on  the  grounds.  That  was  the 
saving  clause.  I  was  away  from  home  on  the  day 
of  the  tragedy,  but  returned  next  morning.  Buck 
met  me  and  told  the  story  with  chattering  teeth.  I 
drove  out  to  the  plantation  at  once.  It  was  noon 
when  I  reached  the  settlement.  There  was  a  ridge 
of  freshly  turned  earth  in  the  edge  of  the  timber. 
The  white  director  was  whistling  in  the  doorway  of 
his  office.  The  Negroes  were  about  their  usual 
occupations.  And  Dan,  newly  elected  assistant  over- 
seer in  Jack's  place,  was  riding  about  the  premises 
on  the  sleek  black  mule  poor  Jack  had  ridden  every 
day  for  five  years. 

"Things  moved  on  smoothly  after  that,  and  a 
fine  yield  of  cotton  was  safely  harvested.  But  I 
found  myself  in  a  critical  position.  Benson,  the 
white  man  in  charge  of  the  supply  store,  a  trust- 
worthy fellow,  discovered  that  many  of  the  Negroes 


THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT.  273 

intended  to  ask  me  to  release  them  from  further 
service,  and  to  waive  the  provisions  of  the  yearly 
contracts  on  the  ground  of  good  behavior  and  honest 
labor.  I  knew  that  three  or  four  more  fair  crops 
would  put  me  out  of  debt.  But  if  my  well-disciplined 
force  left  me  in  a  body,  as  I  feared,  if  a  few  set  the 
example  I  should  be  left  in  the  lurch.  Of  course, 
1  could  have  refused  to  waive  the  provision,  and  so 
made  reasonably  sure  of  retaining  the  majority  of 
the  gang,  but  they  would  have  felt  aggrieved  and 
resentful.  The  cotton  was  nearly  all  marketed,  and 
I  saw  that  I  must  act  quickly  to  forestall  the  request 
for  release. 

"Counting  upon  Dan's  affection  for  me,  I  de- 
vised a  new  scheme  and  impressed  him  with  its  im- 
portance to  me  and  the  benefits  it  would  secure  to 
the  gang.  Furthermore,  I  promised  him  a  hundred 
dollars  bonus  if  he  would  guarantee  to  push  the 
scheme  through.  He  readily  consented  to  undertake 
the  task. 

"I  presented  two  plans  to  the  gang,  allowing 
them  to  choose  for  themselves.  The  first  was  to  pay 
into  their  hands  at  once  the  share  of  the  year's 
profits  due  them,  holding  them  to  the  provision  of 
their  expiring  contracts.  The  second  was  to  reserve 
the  sum  due  them,  retain  them  in  service,  and  give 
them  the  entire  profits  of  the  fifth  crop  raised  there- 
after, and  with  it  the  unprovisional  release  of  their 
contracts.  I  counted  'upon  having  paid  off  my  in- 
debtedness by  that  time. 
18 


274  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"The  youngest  member  of  the  gang  was  nearly 
forty.  All  had  grown  accustomed  to  labor  and  disci- 
pline. They  had  not  been  unfairly  treated  on  the 
plantation,  and  most  of  them  were  without  friends 
or  knowledge  of  the  whereabouts  of  their  kindred. 
Dan  used  his  influence  to  advantage,  and  slight  ob- 
jections were  gradually  overcome.  The  second 
proposition  was  finally  seriously  considered,  fully 
explained,  and  duly  accepted. 

"This  is  the  fifth  year  since  that  last  contract  was 
made.  I  paid  off  the  remainder  of  my  debts  last 
year,  with  scant  margin  for  my  necessary  personal 
expenses.  This  year's  crop  belongs  to  my  gang. 
They  have  worked  like  slaves  this  season,  and  have 
every  reason  to  expect  an  enormous  harvest,  and 
when  it  is  marketed  and  the  profits  distributed 
among  my  laborers  I  shall  release  them  from  every 
provision  and  let  them  go.  I  shall  have  canceled 
my  last  obligation  then,  and  I,  too,  shall  be  free 
from  bondage  at  last,  penniless  till  I  can  sell  some 
of  my  land  or  raise  another  harvest,  but  relieved  be- 
yond words.  But  enough  of  that." 

"Are  things  moving  along  harmoniously  now?" 

"Yes,  with  the  exception  of  a  ripple  of  uneasi- 
ness caused  by  the  misbehavior  of  Ham,  a  thick- 
necked,  heavy-browed  buck  who  has  grown  restless 
here  lately.  Dan  says  a  strange  Negro  has  been 
hanging  about  the  border  of  the  plantation  for  eight 
or  ten  days,  and  last  Sabbath  Ham  was  missing  all 
day.  He  turned  up  in  the  evening,  however,  and 
confessed  that  he  had  been  over  at  a  small  country 


THE;  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT.  275 

schoolhouse,  some  miles  distant,  to  attend  a  meeting 
of  colored  folk,  and  professed  to  be  highly  delighted 
with  his  venture.  The  whole  gang  was  incensed  at 
his  action,  which  trespassed  upon  his  yearly  contract. 
They  feared  he  would  commit  a  second  offense, 
which  would  bring  about  his  discharge  and  over- 
throw the  special  contract,  now  so  near  its  maturity. 
Dan  says  they  have  told  Ham  openly,  that  in  case 
of  a  second  offense  they  will  make  good  the  terms  of 
the  contract  by  sacrificing  him  as  they  did  Jack. 
But  the  scamp  meets  even  these  dark  threats  stolidly, 
and  pretends  to  have  become  very  wise  at  the  meet- 
ing. I  induced  him  to  tell  me  the  whole  story,  from 
the  incident  of  his  first  temptation  to  play  truant  to 
the  height  and  breadth  of  the  wisdom  he  had  gained. 

"He  said  that  a  colored  preacher  had  approached 
him  in  the  cotton-field  one  day,  urged  him  to  attend 
the  Sunday  meetings  at  the  schoolhouse,  and  de- 
clared that  the  law  no  longer  permitted  slavery,  and 
that  I  had  no  right  to  bind  my  Negroes  to  rules  of 
obedience  I  could  not  lawfully  sustain.  Ham  claims 
that  he  resisted  the  man's  tempting  invitations,  but 
on  Saturday  a  young  negress  visited  him  with  better 
results. 

"I  urged  Ham  to  keep  to  his  contract  for  the 
sake  of  his  companions,  if  not  for  his  own  good.  He 
then  said  that  the  colored  preacher  had  declared  that 
I  would  defraud  them  of  their  profits  in  the  end, 
for  that  while  a  white  man  always  compelled  the 
darky  to  fulfill  his  part  of  an  agreement,  he  never 


276  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

hesitated  to  break  his  own  when  it  was  to  his  ad- 
vantage. Finally  it  came  out  that  the  alluring  wench 
wanted  Ham  to  go  with  her  to  a  town  several  coun- 
ties distant,  where  both  might  find  employment  and 
seek  admission  to  a  night  school  for  Negroes.  Ham 
claimed,  too,  that  he  had  recently  acquired  a  thirst 
for  knowledge,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  it  is  the 
wench,  and  not  the  school,  that  interests  him.  I 
instructed  Dan  to  give  him  work  up  near  the  settle- 
ment and  to  keep  an  eye  on  him.  But  enough  of 
that." 

Colonel  Whitmore  went  to  hold  a  consultation 
with  Buck  and  Chloe  presently,  and  Robert,  noticing 
that  the  storm  was  over,  searched  the  sky  for  patches 
of  blue.  As  he  stood  in  the  yard  with  his  face  up- 
turned to  the  heavens  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  Colonel  Whitmore,  who  had  stepped 
out  of  the  door  quietly,  asked : 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking  so  intently,  young 
man?" 

"Of  the  glimpses  of  tenderness  I  have  discov- 
ered shining  through  the  clouds  that  obscure  your 
truest  nature  from  your  fellow-men,  sir.  Those 
streaks  of  blue  melting  through  the  gray  of  yonder 
heavens  reminded  me.  And  I  was  wondering,  too, 
if  you  could  be  induced  to  enter  into  a  compact 
with  me." 

"Why  not,  my  friend?  "  questioned  the  elder 
man,  with  a  smile  wreathing  his  lips,  but  with  the 
shadow  of  pain  in  his  eyes. 


THE  KERNEL  OF  THE  NUT.  277 

As  the  pair  stood  searching  each  other's  eyes, 
the  sun  suddenly  burst  through  the  scurrying  clouds, 
and  glancing  up  at  the  miracle  of  light,  the  colonel 
exclaimed : 

"Ah,  that  is  a  good  omen !  Give  me  your  hand, 
my  young  friend,  and  your  confidence !" 


XXIII. 
ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE. 

WHEN  Colonel  Whitmore  and  his  guest  were 
again  seated  in  the  library,  the  younger  man  said: 

"No  doubt  you  surmise  the  nature  of  the  more 
important  part  of  my  confidence,  sir." 

"I  imagine  it  relates  to  Negro  welfare.  You 
understand  my  position.  I  recoil  from  viewing  a 
future  in  which  the  Negro  will  have  equal  rank  with 
white  men  in  governmental  affairs.  And  since  that 
possibility  was  provided  for  in  the  sixties  and  is 
theoretically  imminent,  I  believe  our  State  powers 
have  done  well  to  impose  the  only  hindering  meas- 
ure admissible.  You  have  not  lived  in  close  contact 
with  our  Southern  Negroes,  and  can  not  form  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  detriment  a  wholesale  lot  of 
unprincipled  voters  are  to  a  community,  to  say 
nothing  of  their  abuse  of  the  ballot  in  the  larger 
interests  of  State  and  Nation." 

"Sir,  I  do  not  condemn  the  law  which  limits 
franchise  to  those  who  can  read,  write,  and  give 
proof  of  having  three  hundred  dollars'  worth  of 
property,  since  its  restrictions  apply  to  black  and 
white  alike.  The  requirements  are  not  beyond  the 
accomplishment  of  any  citizen  of  normal  faculties, 
278 


ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE.  279 

and  if  he  does  not  value  the  privilege  of  suffrage 
sufficiently  to  strive  for  it  by  efforts  doubly  to  his 
own  advantage,  he  lacks  in  the  essentials  that  make 
citizenship  profitable.  But  after  admitting  your  new 
rulings  just  and  reasonable,  it  remains  to  be  proven 
that  there  is  really  to  be  equality  before  the  law  in 
the  enforcement  of  the  statute,  as  well  as  in  its 
wording.  Justly  applied,  it  will  be  of  incalculable 
value  to  coming  generations." 

"Right,  young  man.  Instead  of  being  tyrannical 
the  demand  is  at  root  humane." 

"Then  in  the  face  of  the  scheme  carried  out  on 
your  own  plantation,  you  are  reconciled  to  the  edu- 
cation of  the  colored  race." 

"Reconciled — yes,  that  is  the  right  word.  I  am 
not  a  convert  to  many  things  to  which  I  have  be- 
come reconciled.  I  would  not  seek  to  debar  the 
younger  generations  of  Negroes  from  the  oppor- 
tunities open  to  them  now,  nor  would  I  try  to  sup- 
press the  ambitions  of  those  of  any  age  who  are 
responsible  for  good  behavior.  But  there  is  an  ap- 
palling number  of  Negroes  that  ignore  all  oppor- 
tunities for  improvement,  live  like  rats  from  choice, 
existing  on  small  thefts,  and  when  these  fail  labor- 
ing from  sheer  necessity  only.  These  are  howling 
loudest  for  the  rights  of  suffrage,  since  now  they 
can  neither  sell  their  votes  for  coin  nor  receive  pay 
to  withhold  them,  which  is  the  only  loss  many  of 
them  feel  in  their  disfranchisement.  Well,  the 
Northern  philanthropist  or  sentimentalist,  hearing 
the  senseless  clamor  through  a  wall  of  prejudice, 


28o  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

shouts  forth  a  cry  of  sympathy  that  maddens  the 
mob  and  increases  the  confusion  without  in  the  least 
remedying  the  condition  of  things." 

"Perhaps.  But  your  better  classes  of  Negroes 
are  adding  their  voices  in  rebellion  against  the  Lily 
White  Republican  movement,  which  certainly  dem- 
onstrates taxation  without  representation." 

"True  enough,  and  it  is  time  for  the  Negro  to 
understand  that  the  Republican  is  not  necessarily 
his  friend,  any  more  than  that  the  Democrat  is  nec- 
essarily his  enemy.  The  race  must  face  the  truth, 
that  its  claim  upon  Republicans  North  or  South,  as 
a  party,  is  now  a  thing  of  history.  Our  Negroes 
must  also  realize  that,  while  they  have  bitter  ene- 
mies in  the  South,  their  warmest  friends  and  sym- 
pathizers are  here  also." 

"What  of  the  present  outlook,  sir?" 

"Well,  looking  beyond  racial  agitations  of  the 
immediate  present,  the  course  of  our  American  Ne- 
groes is  plainly  described.  It  lies  with  them  indi- 
vidually and  collectively  to  lift  the  race  if  it  can  be 
lifted.  Our  States  do  not  discriminate  against 
Negroes  in  the  division  of  public-school  funds, 
which  fact  is  proof  of  the  fairness  of  our  Southern 
laws  at  core.  Let  the  Negro  enter  the  avenues  of 
learning  at  full  tilt  if  he  will,  and  prove  his  capacity 
to  cast  ballot  with  men  of  character  and  intellectual 
standing  if  he  can.  Every  man  should  acquire  fit- 
ness for  citizenship.  All  men  are  born  to  rights, 
but  none  to  privileges  for  which  he  lacks  capacity." 

"I  agree  with  you,  sir,  just  so  far  as  accident  of 


ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE;.  281 

color  does  not  pronounce  incapacity  upon  one,  other- 
wise qualified,  to  the  civil  privileges  of  citizenship. 
And  I  sincerely  hope  it  is  false  that  any  locality 
in  the  South  lays  the  lines  of  law  low  enough  for 
one  to  step  over,  but  raises  them  to  debar  one  of 
equal  worthiness." 

"There  will  be  some  unfairness  in  certain  sec- 
tions of  the  South  for  years  to  come,  no  doubt.  But 
let  the  Negro  prove  his  ability  to  manage  his  per- 
sonal affairs  decently  and  prosperously,  and  so  em- 
power himself  with  fitness  to  assist  in^  broader  con- 
cerns. His  excuse  for  illiteracy  is  vanishing.  He 
must  either  rise,  or  concede  to  a  truth  that  he  is 
deficient  by  nature  to  rank  as  the  equal  of  the  white 
man.  I  think  it  will  take  severe  drivers  to  start 
the  body  and  keep  it  going  even  at  a  snail's  pace." 

"And  I  believe  the  race  has  a  superabundance 
of  drivers  already.  It  is  bewildered  by  the  vastness 
of  the  prospect  into  which  it  has  been  driven.  It 
needs  leaders,  sir !" 

"Granted.  From  what  point  would  you  lead 
them  and  where?" 

"From  the  deserts  of  illiteracy  and  ignorance 
and  moral  impotency.  From  the  prison  cell,  the 
chain-gang,  the  haunts  of  idleness  and  vice,  and 
from  the  soulless  conditions  of  the  back  plantation. 
I  would  lead  them,  first  of  all,  to  my  Master's  feet, 
for  He  is  the  true  source  of  healing,  light,  and  in- 
spiration to  culture.  I  would  teach  the  Gospel  hand 
in  hand  with  the  rudiments  of  learning.  Sir,  give 
me  a  chance  to  lead  your  gang  into  the  light.  They 


282  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

are  too  old  and  stupid,  perhaps,  to  acquire  much 
education,  but  they  are  my  brothers.  Give  me  the 
privilege  of  leading  them  into  the  pathway  of  eternal 
life!" 

Colonel  Whitmore  searched  the  earnest  face  of 
his  guest  curiously.  "You  are  a  visionary  fellow," 
he  said  at  last,  glancing  away  from  the  pleading 
eyes.  "You  are  deceived  by  the  vain  imaginings 
of  a  creed  that  has  no  potency  when  applied  to  dumb 
creatures.  Take  my  gang,  for  instance.  If  you 
wish  to  experiment,  I  would  advise  you  to  seek 
more  tractable  material.  My  plantation  is  a  mere 
nook,  a  corner  of  darkness.  Begin  in  the  open, 
where  the  field  is  broader  and  more  noticeable,  my 
friend." 

"It  is  the  darkest  corners  that  are  most  in  need 
of  light.  Perpetual  darkness  breeds  loathsomeness. 
Your  gang  is  indeed  made  up  of  pitiable  creatures, 
but  they  have  proven  themselves  capable  of  stead- 
fastness to  a  device  for  personal  benefit.  They  have 
dim  ideas  of  the  duties  of  one  to  the  other.  They 
have  capacity  for  higher  development." 

"Do  you  hope  to  transform  them  into  polished 
gentlemen  fit  to  invade  White  House  crushes?" 

"Your  humor  smacks  of  sarcasm,  sir,"  replied 
Robert  Lane,  smilingly.  "Social  equality  is  not 
offered  as  an  incentive  to  the  race,  even  by  the 
acknowledged  leader  implicated  in  your  remark." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  Beneath  the  white- 
ness of  his  fine  linen  there  is  a  dusky  hide." 

"And  also  a  noble  heart,  sir.    Did  you  hear  his 


ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE.  283 

famous  address  at  Atlanta,  in  which  he  said:  'In 
all  things  that  are  purely  social  we  can  be  as  sepa- 
rate as  the  fingers,  yet  one  as  the  hand  in  all  things 
essential  to  mutual  progress  ?'  " 

"Yes,  I  heard  that  address,  and  shall  not  soon 
forget  it.  But  mark  you,  that  leader  is  a  shrewd 
diplomat.  He  has  the  blood  of  a  white  father  in 
his  veins,  and  caters  to  both  races.  He  was  too 
politic  to  say,  we  will  be,  or  we  must  be.  He  only 
said,  'We  can  be.'  He  has  since  proven  that  he 
himself  stands  ready  to  accept  social  favors  when 
tendered." 

"That  is  his  right.  He  does  not  seek  such  favors 
nor  aspire  to  them ;  but  he  has  the  grace  to  accept 
what  is  offered  in  sincerity  of  heart  and  purpose. 
Sir,  you  urged  your  hospitality  upon  me  with  the 
courtesy  of  a  sovereign  and  the  tenderness  of  a 
father  or  elder  brother.  Should  I  have  refused  it 
simply  because  I  would  not  advise  my  people  to 
seek  aggressively  social  intercourse  with  the  su- 
perior race  ?" 

"There  was  no  reason  why  you  should  not  accept 
my  invitation.  But  your  case  is  extraordinary.  The 
taint  in  your  blood  is  so  thoroughly  subdued  with 
the  superior  element  that  it  does  not  obtrude." 

"Sir,  had  you  a  daughter  would  you  give  her  to 
me  in  marriage?" 

"Ah,  young  man,  that  is  a  bold  proposition," 
replied  the  colonel,  with  a  smile.  "I  have  no 
daughter." 

"You  evade  the  point.    I  am  serious." 


284  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Why  hang  a  decision  upon  an  imaginary  situ- 
ation, young  man.  Let  us  proceed.  Were  I  to  per- 
mit you  to  instruct  my  gang,  what  method  would 
you  use?" 

"I  would  attach  new  significance  to  things  fa- 
miliar to  them,  and  as  their  minds  grasped  and  ex- 
panded I  would  arrange  methods  of  instruction  to 
suit  their  needs.  I  would  begin  with  a  cotton  seed, 
I  think." 

"I  see.  But  there  would  be  no  time  except  at 
night." 

"I  do  not  ask  for  more." 

"What  guaranty  can  you  give  me  that  your 
efforts  will  not  arouse  a  spirit  of  mischief,  or  that 
you  have  not  an  ax  to  grind  for  your  own  profit?" 

"I  have  shown  you  my  heart,  sir." 

"You  do  not  comprehend  the  undertaking.  It 
will  be  a  sacrifice  of  time  and  energy  to  no  purpose. 
I  can  secure  a  better  position  for  you,  where  you  can 
study  the  race  to  greater  advantage." 

"I  prefer  your  plantation  and  your  personal  su- 
pervision and  friendship,  sir.  I  am  willing  to  take 
the  risk  of  failure." 

"Ah,  life  must  have  little  value  to  you.  But  I 
remember  sorrow  has  come  to  you  lately,  and  dis- 
appointments. I  have  a  mind  to  grant  your  re- 
quest." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  sir!  God  has  directed 
me  here,  I  am  sure." 

"I  am  not  a  believer  in  supernatural  direction. 
It  is  simply  that  you  have  chanced  upon  a  lonely 


ROBERT  LANE'S  CONFIDENCE.  285 

old  man,  whom  you  have  interested.  I  will  trust 
to  your  discretion  for  a  few  months'  trial  of  your 
plan." 

"You  obligate  me  greatly,  and  make  it  proper 
for  me  to  reveal  the  secret  of  my  parentage  to  you." 

"Not  if  it  will  violate  your  happiness." 

"You  have  called  me  friend  and  given  me  your 
hospitality,  knowing  my  connection  with  the  inferior 
race.  I  shall  be  frank  with  you,  sir,  but  I  ask  you 
to  respect  my  confidence  for  the  sake  of  others." 

"My  honor,  young  man.     Enough  of  that." 

"I  am  the  son  of  your  neighbor,  Rupert  Rad- 
cliffe." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  colonel,  with  startled  eyes. 
"And  your  mother?" 

"My  mother  was  his  first  wife,  Patra  Dunbar, 
the  quadroon." 

"Ah,  now  I  understand  why  you  have  impressed 
me  so  familiarly.  You  resemble  your  mother  in 
some  respects,  and  you  are  like  your  grandfather, 
Major  Radcliffe,  too;  particularly  in  your  bearing." 

"I  am  fortunate  that  you  do  not  question  the 
truth  of  my  story,  sir.  It  was  to  confirm  my 
mother's  statements  that  I  came  South." 

"I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  your  story.  I  know 
your  family  well.  So  your  mother  is  living?" 

"Yes.  I  discovered  her  recently,  and  beheld  my 
father  for  the  first  time  yesterday." 

"Ah,  so  you  are  Dorothy's  grandson  ?  No  won- 
der I  was  attracted  to  you,"  said  the  colonel,  re- 


286  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

flectively.    "But  enough  of  that  till  you  care  to  speak 

more  fully." 

"Which  will  be  when  I  can  get  my  papers  from 

the  hotel." 

"Your  word  is  sufficient,  young  man." 

"I  am  grateful  for  the  inference,  sir,"  replied 

Robert,  with  emotion.    And  then  he  gave  the  details 

of  his  history. 


XXIV. 
A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION. 

THE  early  morning  sun  was  shining  brightly 
when  Victory  Radcliffe,  returning  from  the  South 
the  day  prior  to  that  which  proclaimed  Payson  Bend 
under  quarantine,  hurried  up  the  Payson  driveway, 
her  face  aglow  with  happiness  and  eagerness.  Step- 
ping lightly  across  the  veranda,  she  was  about  to 
enter  the  door  when  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  Hilda  Lane. 

"Sakes  alive,  Victory!"  exclaimed  the  woman, 
in  surprise,  but  adding  softly,  "I  'm  mighty  glad 
you  've  come  home,  pettie." 

"O,  Aunt  Hilda,  what  is  the  matter?  You  are 
so  worn  and  sad!  Where  is  Uncle  Jerry?  What 
has  happened?" 

"Jerry  has  been  bad  sick,  Victory,  but  he's  on 
the  mend  now." 

"Was  it  worry  about  me?  Tell  me  the  truth, 
Aunt  Hilda,  was  it?"  asked  the  girl,  piteously. 
"Didn't  he  get  my  letter?" 

"His  sickness  isn't  on  your  head,  Victory.     He 

has  n't  been  able  to  read  any  letters,  but  I  have  n't 

seen  any,  for  that  matter.     I  reckon  Andy  's  been 

too  flustered  to  get  the  mail  from  the  office.    Jerry  's 

287 


288  HiivDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

sleeping  now.  But  you  'd  best  change  your  clothes 
before  you  go  to  see  him.  The  smallpox  has  broke 
out  in  town,  and  I  reckon  you  've  come  past  some 
of  the  houses  where  it  is.  The  doctor  says  we  must 
be  mighty  careful  about  getting  it  on  our  clothes 
and  bringing  it. to  Jerry.  But  do  n't  be  scared,  Vic- 
tory ;  we  '11  do  the  best  we  can  to  keep  clean  and  such 
as  that,  and  God  '11  take  care  of  the  rest." 

"I  know.  I  did  n't  suspicion  what  those  red 
cards  were  for.  Dear  me !" 

When  Jerry  Payson  opened  his  eyes  an  hour 
later  Victory  was  bending  over  him  with  troubled 
face. 

"I  knew  you  were  here,  Victory,"  he  said.  "I 
smelt  the  violet  stuff  on  your  clothes.  I  was  afraid 
to  let  on  for  a  minute,  lest  I  was  dreaming.  I  want 
you  to  bring  in  my  chair  and  sit  down  in  it  close  by 
the  bed,  where  I  can  see  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and 
sing  'My  country,  't  is  of  Thee.'  I  'm  out  of  tune 
myself,  and  my  ears  ache  to  hear  somebody  sing." 

Victory  dashed  away  her  quick  tears  and  did  as 
she  was  bidden.  It  was  not  easy  to  sing  at  the 
moment,  but  after  a  little  dallying  with  a  corner  of 
the  flag,  which  she  had  caught  up  in  her  fair  hands, 
she  began  the  old  hymn,  her  voice  a  trifle  unsteady 
but  wondrously  sweet.  When  the  song  was  fin- 
ished she  knelt  by  the  bed  and  burst  into  tears,  with 
her  face  against  the  pillow.  Jerry  Payson  smiled 
contentedly,  and  said  cheerily: 

"It 's  like  old  times  to  have  you  snubbing  up 
against  my  shoulder,  Victory.  I  like  it,  because 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION.  289 

by  and  by,  when  you  get  calmed  down,  you  '11  be 
as  bright  and  sassy  as  a  yellow  dandelion  just  bust- 
ing into  bloom  after  a  spring  rain." 

The  girl  giggled  hysterically,  and  pinched  the 
sick  man's  nose  ever  so  gently.  "Now  I  know 
you  're  really  better,  you  dear  old  torment !"  she 
cried. 

Andy  Peters,  the  only  other  occupant  of  the 
room,  rose  from  his  seat  with  a  sigh,  and  was  going 
out  when  Jerry  Payson,  noticing  him,  held  out  his 
hand.  "Shake,  old  boy,"  he  said,  weakly,  with  a 
wink  and  significant  wrinkle  of  his  brow.  "I  '11  be 
about  in  my  chair  in  a  day  or  two  now,  I  reckon; 
and  maybe  I  '11  have  more  sense  than  to  let  my  head 
hit  against  things  that  were  n't  made  for  pillows. 
I  reckon  it 's  a  fine  thing  you  was  with  me  when  I 
sort  of  fainted  there  by  the  fireplace  that  day.  I 
might  have  scrambled  into  the  fire." 

"Do  n't  Jerry,  I—" 

"Shut  up,  Andy,  and  let  me  have  the  floor  this 
time!"  interposed  Jerry,  with  another  mysterious 
grimace. 

"O  lordy!"  muttered  Andy,  making  queer  gut- 
tural sounds  in  his  throat  as  he  limped  from  the 
room.  He  returned  presently,  and  laid  a  brilliantly 
yellow  disk  on  the  coverlet  beside  the  sick  man's 
hand. 

"It's  getting  late  in  the  season,  Jerry,  but  it's 

a  sure  enough  dandelion.     Just  popped  out  since 

the  rains.     I  saw  it  in  the  grass  out  there,  about 

where  that  yaller  one  was  that  time,  and  thought 

19 


290  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

you  'd  be  tickled  to  see  it,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
tearful  attempt  at  humor. 

"And  I  am,  Andy.  Thanky.  It 's  about  the  yel- 
lowest thing  I  've  ever  seen  in  my  born  days !"  ex- 
claimed Jerry  Payson,  taking  the  golden  flower 
between  his  trembling  fingers. 

"I  supposed  it  would  be,"  commented  Andy. 
"Such  a  fellow  as  you  are,  Jerry.  It  beats  all." 

"Andy  is  about  on  the  lift  himself,  I  'm  afraid," 
said  Jerry  Payson  to  Victory  after  the  man  had 
hobbled  away.  "He  looks  mighty  bad,  and  coughs 
fit  to  kill." 

Andy  Peters  was  indeed  on  the  brink  of  a  break- 
down, and  was  stricken  with  pneumonia,  with  alarm- 
ing symptoms,  when  Jerry  Payson  was  barely  able 
to  be  lifted  into  his  roller  chair.  As  the  disease 
progressed,  Dr.  Hilton  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 
Conscious  of  his  own  condition,  Andy  asked  timidly : 

"How  long  have  I  got  yet,  Doctor?" 

"I  do  n't  know,  I  'm  sure,  Andy.  But  do  n't 
lose  heart.  Worse  cases  than  yours  have  been 
known  to  recover." 

"I  reckon  so,  but  the  whole  world  was  n't  against 
them." 

"O  well,  the  world  isn't  bothering  itself  about 
you,"  replied  the  physician,  indulgently.  But  for  an 
hour  afterwards  the  sick  man  lay  with  tears  slowly 
trickling  down  his  withered  cheeks. 

"Do  n't  give  up  to  your  feelings  so,  Andy.  You 
are  n't  dead  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Strong,  sympathetically. 

"O    lordy,    Peggy,    I  'm   next   thing    to    dead. 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION.  291 

Crown  Hill  is  n't  so  fine  to  think  about  when  you  're 
in  the  last  pinch  to  it.  There  's  room  in  the  Peters's 
lot  to  bury  me,  but  I  '11  need  some  new  black  clothes. 
Drat  Betty  Bigelow's  peas,  anyhow!" 

"La  me,  Andy,  you  '11  have  to  take  a  dose  of 
this  medicine,  I  reckon.  Your  fever  's  on  the  rise, 
I  'm  afraid.  Anyway  your  mind  do  n't  seem  to  be 
working  sensible,"  declared  Mrs.  Strong,  who  knew 
nothing  about  the  episode  at  Miss  Bigelow's. 

"My  mind  's  clear  a  plenty,  Peggy,  and  there  's 
things  I  've  got  to  say  before  I  die.  I  wish  you  'd 
send  for  Hilda,  and  I  want  Jerry  fetched  up  here, 
too." 

"Lame,  Andy!" 

"There  's  no  time  to  waste,  Peggy,"  insisted  the 
man,  feebly. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Hilda  Lane  and  Jerry 
Payson  sat  beside  Andy's  bed.  Peggy  Strong  stood 
near,  uncertain  whether  to  leave  the  room  or  not. 
Noticing  her,  the  sick  man  said : 

"Before  you  settle  down,  Peggy,  I  wish  you  'd 
get  my  bunch  of  keys  out  of  the  press  yonder,  and 
go  up  garret  and  fetch  my  old,  gray  soldier  coat 
down.  It 's  in  the  big  red  chest  with  them  traps  of 
mother's.  O  lordy !" 

"Well,  I  '11  get  the  coat  in  a  jiffy,  Andy.  You 
lie  still  and  keep  ca'm,"  advised  the  woman,  hurry- 
ing away  on  her  errand,  and  soon  returning  with  a 
tattered  coat,  which  she  laid  on  the  bed. 

"O  lordy,  I  suppose  I  've  got  to  tell  things  now !" 
groaned  the  miserable  sinner. 


292  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy,  don't  work  yourself  up  so. 
I  reckon  what 's  on  your  mind  will  keep  yet  awhile," 
interposed  Miss  Lane,  kindly. 

"Yes,  of  course  it  will,  old  boy,"  added  Jerry 
Payson,  pityingly. 

"La  me,  Andy,  if  it 's  a  thing  that 's  pestering 
you,  you  better  get  it  out  and  done  with,"  urged 
Mrs.  Strong,  in  opposition  to  the  others. 

"I  'low  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  things,  Peggy, 
but  it  is  n't  easy.  O  lordy  !" 

"You  wait  and  rest  a  bit,  Andy,"  suggested  Jerry 
Payson,  brokenly. 

"I  've  waited  to  the  end  of  my  time,  Jerry.  I  '11 
have  things  out  right  now.  You  remember  the  night 
before  you  went  off  to  the  army,  do  n't  you  ?  Well, 
I  was  hid  back  of  them  rose  bushes  at  the  end  of 
Timothy  Lane's  house  and  heard  you  talking  to 
Hilda.  When  I  'd  got  all  I  could  stand  without 
busting,  I  showed  up  and  made  bold  to  sit  down  on 
the  steps  with  you  and  Hilda.  I  spoilt  your  court- 
ing then,  but  after  we  'd  started  home  you  ran  back 
and  whispered  something  I  did  n't  get  to  hear.  I 
'lowed  it  was  about  writing  letters  to  one  t'other. 

"I  guess  Hilda  minds  how  I  tried  to  spark  her 
after  you  went  off  to  the  army,  but  I  reckon  she 
never  found  out  why  I  was  so  particular  about  fetch- 
ing her  pappy's  mail  from  the  office  the  next  few 
months.  Well,  a  mite  of  a  box  came  for  her  one 
day,  but  she  never  laid  eyes  on  it.  It 's  in  this  old 
gray  coat  this  minute. 

"I  tried  to  get  Hilda  away  from  you,  Jerry; 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION.  293 

but  she  was  set  against  me  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
world.  I  got  mad  at  her  at  last,  and  went  off  and 
joined  the  rebel  army  just  to  get  a  right  to  kill  you 
if  I  got  the  chance.  You  mind  that  day  at  Cedar 
Creek,  don't  you?  Well — O  lordy!  Jerry — Jerry, 
it  was  me  that  shot  your  eye  out !  I  must  have  had 
the  devil  in  me,  but  when  I  saw  you  fall  I  went 
crazy  over  what  I  'd  done.  That 's  why  I  came 
back  after  the  war  to  get  the  job  of  waiting  on  you. 
But — bad  as  I  felt  about  your  eye — I  had  the  old 
Harry  in  me  yet,  and  I  did  n't  more  than  lay  eyes 
on  Hilda  till  I  made  up  my  mind  I  'd  keep  you  and 
her  from  making  things  up  again.  But  you  never 
appeared  to  try  love-making  any  more.  I  always 
hung  round  tolerable  close  though,  so  you  would  n't 
have  much  chance.  I  sort  of  suspicioned  you  hank- 
ered for  one  t'other,  in  spite  of  things. 

"I  've  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  now,  Jerry,  and 
I  reckon  you  '11  turn  against  me,  too,  for  good  and 
all.  O  lordy,  I  've  had  the  whole  creation  to  fight 
ever  since  the  day  I  was  born !"  wailed  the  old  man, 
desolately,  yielding  to  a  paroxysm  of  coughing  that 
threatened  to  throw  him  into  convulsions.  When  at 
last  the  sufferer  was  easy  again  he  looked  at  the 
pair  he  had  wronged  with  beseeching  eyes. 

"Andy,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  with  tears  streaming 
down  his  cheeks  and  the  tenderness  of  a  great  soul 
in  his  voice,  "I  forgive  what  you  Ve  done  against 
me.  You  've  suffered  a  heap  in  your  mind — a  plenty 
for  your  sins,  I  reckon — and  I  Ve  never  forgot  that 
day  above  the  mill  dam  when  you  saved  my  life.  I 


294  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

shan't  hold  anything  against  you,  old  boy,  so  do  n't 
let  what 's  past  and  done  pester  you  any  more." 

"O  lordy,  what  a  fellow  you  are,  Jerry!" 
groaned  the  sick  man,  gratefully. 

Hilda  Lane  sat  silently  gazing  at  the  patchwork 
quilt  that  covered  the  creature  whose  malice  had 
come  between  her  and  the  fulfillment  of  her  youthful 
hopes.  But  she  saw  only  a  long  array  of  years, 
through  which  she  had  bravely  subdued  the  yearn- 
ings of  her  being  for  the  dear  tie  of  wifehood  and 
motherhood,  and  stared  at  Jerry  Payson  stupidly 
when  he  said : 

"Hilda,  tell  Andy  you  forgive  him,  too." 

"Do  n't  push  her  to  it,  Jerry — give  her  time — 
it 's  a  hard  thing  she  's  got  to  forgive,"  interposed 
Peggy  Strong,  reproachfully. 

"O  lordy,  lordy!"  wailed  Andy,  piteously.  "I 
do  n't  blame  you  for  hating  me,  Hilda.  But  I  wish 
you  'd  get  that  mite  of  a  box  out  of  this  rag  of  a 
coat.  It 's  got  a  gold  ring  in  it.  Jerry  sent  it  to 
you  from  the  army." 

But  it  was  Mrs.  Strong  who  searched  for  the 
box,  and  finally  laid  it  into  the  toil-worn  hands  of 
the  woman  whose  mission  had  been  unselfish  labor 
for  others.  As  her  fingers  closed  over  the  treasure, 
Hilda  Lane  said  gaspingly : 

"Of  course  I  forgive  you,  Andy.  We  Ve  all  got 
sins,  and  you  might  have  done  a  heap  worse  than 
you  did.  You  might  have  died  without  telling 
things  or  giving  me  this  box.  I  take  it  God 's  had 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION.  295 

His  eye  on  this  mess  of  things,  and  it 's  for  Him 
to  judge  you,  not  me.  I  forgive  you,  Andy." 

In  her  own  little  chamber  under  the  cottage 
eaves  Hilda  Lane  opened  the  tiny  box  with  shaking 
hands.  Her  famished  eyes  were  greeted  by  a  plain 
gold  band,  inside  of  which  was  inscribed,  "From 
Jerry  to  Hilda."  When  her  passion  of  regretful 
pain  had  subsided,  the  woman  slipped  the  ring  on  a 
strand  of  white  tape  and  hid  it  in  her  bosom. 

During  the  afternoon  Betty  Bigelow,  who  had 
noticed  Dr.  Hilton's  frequent  visits  at  the  Payson 
house  in  the  morning,  knocked  at  the  back  door 
and  asked  of  Ellen,  who  responded : 

"Is  Andy  worse,  Ellen?    Is  it  the  smallpox?" 

"  'T  ain't  the  smallpox.  It 's  fever  in  the  lights. 
Andy 's  are  about  coughed  to  slathers,  I  guess. 
He  's  on  his  last  pegs,  poor  feller.  He  had  us  carry 
Mr.  Payson  up  this  morning,  and  sent  for  Miss 
Lane  to  come  over.  I  s'pose  he  told  them  his  dying 
wishes.  He 's  awful  holler-eyed  and  looks  like  a 
skiliton." 

"Dear  me!"  sighed  Miss  Betty,  mournfully.  "I 
wish  I  could  see  him.  Do  you  think  I  could,  Ellen  ?" 

"I  s'pose  you  could  if  you  was  up  there  where 
he  is.  I  s'pose  you  could  find  the  way.  I  'd  go  with 
you  if  I  did  n't  have  my  hands  in  this  bread  dough." 

"O  my,  I  'd  have  to  run  home  first  and  slick  up 
a  bit.  I  '11  put  on  my  purple  wrapper,  I  guess,  and 
my  bead  collar.  I  've  heard  that  a  body  ought  to 
look  bright  in  a  sick  room.  I  '11  get  Andy  some 
flowers,  too." 


296  HII.DA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Miss  Betty  looked  very  bright  indeed  when  she 
returned.  Her  wrapper  was  a  startling  combination 
of  red  and  yellow  roses  on  a  purple  ground,  and  she 
carried  a  huge  bouquet  of  brilliantly-colored  zin- 
nias, phlox,  and  larkspur.  She  was  half  way  up 
the  stairs  when  she  met  Mrs.  Strong  coming  down 
with  a  tray. 

"La  me,  Betty,  you  look  like  a  traveling  flower 
garden!"  exclaimed  the  woman,  a  trifle  sarcastic- 
ally. 

"I  'm  taking  these  to  Andy.  Is  he  too  far  gone 
to  look  at  them?" 

"I  do  n't  know,  I  'm  sure ;  but  if  he  is  n't  they  '11 
finish  him,  I  reckon,"  replied  Mrs.  Strong,  dryly. 
"I  guess  you  can  find  the  way.  I  '11  be  up  again  in 
a  minute  or  two." 

Miss  Betty  reached  the  sick-room,  and  peered  in 
curiously  before  entering,  with  cautious  movements. 
Andy,  with  closed  eyes  and  peaceful  countenance, 
was  propped  up  on  the  pillows,  breathing  raspingly. 
The  visitor  stole  close  to  the  bed,  and  gazed  at  the 
wreck  of  manhood  with  pity  and  grief  puckering 
her  face. 

"Andy,  Andy !"  she  whispered,  frightened  at  her 
own  daring. 

The  half-dozing  man  opened  his  eyes  quickly. 
A  flash  of  anger  crossed  his  face,  followed  by  a 
gleam  of  humor  as  he  surveyed  the  gorgeously  at- 
tired woman;  but  he  finally  closed  his  eyes  again 
without  speaking. 

"I  want  you  to  forgive  me  for  them  peas  bust- 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONFESSION.  297 

ing,  Andy.  I  '11  never  get  over  my  misery  if  you 
do  n't.  I  would  n't  have  had  your  feelings  riled  up 
so,  and  your  Sunday  clothes  splattered  that  way, 
for  anything  in  the  world.  You  '11  forgive  me, 
won't  you?"  pleaded  the  woman,  tearfully. 

"O  lordy!  It  was  the  worst  mess  I  ever  got 
into.  I  can  smell  it  yet." 

"I  know.  It  was  awful.  I  '11  never  have  a  bit 
of  rest  if  you  die  without  forgiving  me." 

"Well,  I'll  give  in,  Betty,  if  you'll  clear  out 
of  here  now,"  consented  the  man,  remembering  how 
much  had  been  forgiven  him. 

"My,  my,  but  I  'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that, 
Andy.  And  look,  I  've  brought  somie  flowers  to 
cheer  your  dying  hour." 

"O  lordy !"  moaned  Andy. 

"My  sweet  peas  are  in  full  way  of  blooming,  too ; 
but  I  'm  saving  them  to  put  on  your  coffin." 

"O  lordy,  lordy,  lordy!"  shuddered  Andy,  de- 
spairingly. 

"La  me,  Betty,  you  'd  best  not  be  too  frisky 
with  your  flowers.  Andy  's  no  notion  of  dying  yet 
awhile;  but  he  needs  rest  mighty  bad  just  now. 
He  is  n't  in  trim  to  talk — it  is  n't  good  for  his  fever," 
insinuated  Mrs.  Strong,  who  had  come  in  quietly, 
and  was  annoyed  at  what  she  had  heard. 

"My,  I'll  go  then,"  declared  Miss  Betty,  ag- 
grievedly.  "I  Ve  been  trying  to  make  Andy  happy 
with  my  flowers.  I  've  heard  that  flowers  in  a  sick- 
room make  a  body  forget  how  bad  they  feel." 

"Oh!  o-h!  o-o-o-h,  lordy!"  came  from  the  bed. 


298  HIUDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"My,  my,  but  he  's  bad  off,  poor  fellow,"  mur- 
mured the  visitor,  laying  down  her  flowers  and  slip- 
ping out  of  the  room  with  a  wild  backward  glance 
at  the  sufferer. 

"Peggy,  I  wish  you  'd  take  them  pesky  things 
down  and  tell  Ellen  to  put  them  through  the  sausage 
mill  or  fling  them  in  the  fire!"  whimpered  Andy, 
distractedly. 

"La  me,  Andy,  do  n't  take  on  so.  I  '11  put  these 
innocent  posies  out  of  your  sight.  Betty  means 
well,  but  she  has  n't  .got  judgment,  it  seems  like. 
There,  now,  ca'm  down  and  take  this  medicine," 
said  Mrs.  Strong,  soothingly. 

"I  wish  that  pesky  old  maid  hadn't  come  and 
upset  me  again.  I  've  been  as  ca'm  and  peaceful 
as  a  hive  of  honey  since  I  talked  to  Jerry  and  Hilda 
and  got  them  to  forgive  me ;  but  now  I  'm  riled  up 
worse  'n  a  hornet's  nest  with  a  fire  in  it." 

"Well,  swallow  this  now,  and  forget  Betty  as 
quick  as  you  can." 

"Forget!  O  lordy,  I  can  smell  them  peas  yet! 
I  wish  you  'd  get  a  fresh  bag  of  hops  for  my  chest, 
Peggy.  Hotter  'n  common.  And  some  more  soap- 
stones  for  my  feet — hotter  'n  common." 

"I  will,  Andy.    You  keep  ca'm  and  lay  still." 

But  the  anxious  woman  had  no  sooner  left  the 
room  than  Andy  staggered  out  of  bed,  and  leaning 
his  dizzy  head  out  of  the  window  beseeched : 

"O  God  A'mighty,  you  was  amazing  good  to  let 
Jerry  get  well,  and  I  do  n't  deserve  any  more  favors ; 
but  I  can't  bear  to  have  that  pesky  Betty  Bigelow 


A  LONG  DECAYED  CONFESSION.  299 

piling  her  nasty  flowers  on  top  of  my  coffin  when 
I  'm  past  kicking.  I  've  quit  off  cussing  the  niggers, 
and  made  a  clean  breast  of  things  to  Jerry  and 
Hilda  and  got  them  to  forgive  me.  Let  me  live  yet 
awhile,  God  A'mighty,  and  I  '11  fix  things  so  the 
niggers  '11  get  what  I  've  got  in  the  bank  when  I 
die  to  help  them  along  in  schooling  and  such.  The 
world  's  been  against  me  my  whole  life !  Let  me 
live  yet  awhile,  and  I  '11  try  to  do  better  'n  I  have 
before  this  !  Amen !" 

Blinded  with  weakness  and  fainting  from  ex- 
haustion, Andy  dragged  himself  to  the  bed  and  fell 
into  a  prolonged  stupor.  Mrs.  Strong,  finding  her 
patient  unconscious  and  the  bedclothes  half  on  the 
floor,  was  perplexed,  but  applied  her  hot  remedies, 
and,  after  forcing  a  stimulant  between  the  man's  blue 
lips,  began  a  vigorous  rubbing  of  his  cold  hands 
and  arms. 

"I  reckon  he  was  flighty  over  them  posies  Betty 
fetched,"  she  soliloquized.  "Or  maybe  he  sensed 
a  fit  of  some  sort  coming  on  and  tried  to  get  up  to 
call  me.  He  's  got  gumption  in  some  ways,  Andy 
has." 

"H-m-m-m-mn-o-oh !"  sighed  the  sufferer,  re- 
turning to  consciousness. 

"Are  you  getting  warm  now,  Andy  ?"  questioned 
the  anxious  nurse. 

"O-o-o-oh,  lordy !"  was  the  feeble  response. 

"Well,  keep  ca'm  and  lay  still,  then." 

"Some — more — blan — kets,  Peggy !" 


3oo  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Why,  you  're  all  of  a  steam  now,  Andy.  But 
lay  still  and  I  '11  get  them." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Andy  lay  sleeping  like  an 
infant.  He  was  still  asleep  and  breathing  easily 
when  the  doctor  made  his  evening  call.  After  ex- 
amining his  patient  the  physician  declared : 

"He  is  sweating  like  a  trooper,  and  his  fever  is 
falling.  He  is  decidedly  better." 

And  from  that  day  on  Andy  Peters  steadily  im- 
proved. 

Although  Hilda  Lane  did  not  let  Andy's  confes- 
sion lessen  her  attendance  upon  him  during  the  crit- 
ical period  of  his  illness,  she  avoided  Jerry  Payson, 
merely  exchanging  greetings  when  she  passed  him 
on  the  veranda  each  evening  on  her  way  to  relieve 
Mrs.  Strong  and  Victory  of  the  care  of  the  sick  man 
for  the  night.  Strive  as  she  would,  she  could  not 
control  a  new  feeling  of  shyness  in  the  presence 
of  the  man  she  had  loved  so  faithfully,  and  whose 
wife  she  would  have  been  in  all  probability  had  not 
Andy's  treachery  deprived  her  of  such  happiness. 
Sleeping  memories  awoke  and  haunted  her  persist- 
ently, and  to  her  greater  embarrassment  there  was 
a  feverish  appeal  in  Jerry's  bearing  toward  her 
never  before  exhibited. 

When  the  time  came  that  Andy  no  longer  needed 
a  night  nurse,  Miss  Lane  was  unusually  busy  and 
failed  to  visit  the  Paysons  for  several  days.  In  fact, 
she  drove  out  to  Sam  Ritchie's  early  every  morn- 
ing, seldom,  returning  to  the  cottage  till  sundown, 
during  the  first  week  of  Andy's  convalescence.  She 


A  LONG  DELAYED  CONCESSION.  301 

was  about  to  turn  into  her  yard  one  evening  when 
Jerry  Payson  called  from  his  veranda : 

"O  Hilda !    Will  you  be  extry  busy  to-morrow  ?" 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry,  I  'm  always  extry  busy." 

"I  know,  but  could  n't  you  come  over  and  sit 
awhile  to-morrow?  You  could  fetch  your  sewing, 
you  know." 

"I  can't  to-morrow.  Sam's  wife  is  n't  quite  able 
to  be  about  yet,  and  there  's  extry  work  out  there, 
now." 

"Seems  like  you  're  always  helping  Sam's  wife 
here  lately." 

"Well,  she  needs  me  and  I  don't  grudge  what 
I  can  do  for  her.  I  '11  try  to  get  over  before  many 
days,  Jerry." 

"Come  as  soon  as  you  can,  Hilda,"  replied  the 
man,  with  a  sigh. 

But  the  week  went  out,  and  another  was  slipping 
away  without  bringing  Hilda  Lane  to  the  Payson 
house.  Each  morning  the  old  soldier  took  up  his 
hopeful  watch  on  the  veranda,  singing  over  his  en- 
tire stock  of  war  songs  to  pass  the  time,  and  each 
evening  he  consoled  himself  by  the  thought,  "She 
will  come  to-morrow."  And  then  one  day,  when  he 
was  wearily  drooping  from  new  disappointment,  he 
saw  a  group  of  people  approaching  the  cottage. 

"Dear  me,  Uncle  Jerry,  look  there!"  cried  Vic- 
tory, coming  out  of  the  house.  "That  is  Liberty 
on  the  stretcher !  She  has  got  the  smallpox  herself 
now,  I  suppose.  Poor  Aunt  Hilda!  She  has  her 
hands  full  all  the  time." 


302  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Yes,"  sighed  Jerry  Payson,  "I  reckon  I  '11  have 
to  give  up  looking  for  her  to  come  over  here  now 
for  a  month,  even  if  she  does  n't  get  the  smallpox 
herself." 

"Dr.  Hilton  told  me  only  last  night  that  he 
thought  the  last  case  had  developed.  He  said  the 
quarantine  would  probably  be  raised  soon.  And  he 
said  that  Liberty  was  holding  out  splendidly." 

"That  was  last  night,  Victory.  A  body  can't  say 
what  a  night  will  bring  about.  Are  you  sure  that 
was  Liberty  on  the  stretcher?" 

"Yes.  I  saw  Aunt  Hilda  lift  the  parasol  as  they 
went  through  the  gate.  I  am  sure  it  was  a  black 
face  I  saw  on  the  pillow." 

As  before  recorded,  it  was  of  a  surety  Liberty 
Despard  who  was  borne  to  the  cottage  that  memo- 
rable day. 


XXV. 

REWARDS  OF  FAITH. 

VICTORY  RADCUFFE  had  found  the  days  subse- 
quent to  her  return  from  the  South  doubly  bur- 
dened. Distressed  at  finding  her  uncle  so  ill,  she 
had  devoted  herself  to  him  as  constantly  as  her  many 
household  duties  permitted.  Ellen  was  slow,  and 
seldom  accomplished  more  than  the  roughest  work, 
and  Mrs.  Strong  was  scarcely  relieved  from  her 
worries  about  her  brother,  when  Andy's  sickness 
had  imposed  new  anxieties.  But  aside  from  her 
domestic  cares,  Victory  was  bearing  a  biting  pain 
and  giving  no  sign. 

She  had  found  the  Horines  absent  from  home 
on  her  return,  and  readily  fell  in  with  the  idea  that 
they  had  left  town  at  the  first  announcement  of  the 
malignant  disease  that  had  demoralized  so  many. 
But  knowing  nothing  at  all  of  the  quarrel  between 
Eric  and  his  father  and  its  dreadful  results,  nor  of 
the  fact  that  Mrs.  Horine,  having  received  her  letter 
to  Eric,  not  imagining  its  importance,  had  tucked 
it  away  and  forgotten  its  existence,  the  girl  grew 
more  and  more  disheartened  at  her  lover's  prolonged 
silence. 

Prohibited  from  visiting  her  young  friends  in 


304  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

Payson  Bend,  and  overburdened  with  work  and 
anxieties  of  various  kinds  during  the  weeks  of  her 
uncle's  and  Andy  Peter's  illness,  the  girl  grew  thin 
and  pale.  She  tried  to  appear  cheerful  and  wholly 
interested  in  the  comfort  of  her  family,  but  the  con- 
stant pain  of  love's  hidden  wound  and  sad  repine 
wore  upon  her.  She  gladly  welcomed  the  sunsets, 
for  then  Hilda  Lane  always  came  to  the  relief  of 
the  household  in  the  night  care  of  the  sick,  and  Vic- 
tory was  free  to  steal  awa.y  to  the  quiet  darkness 
of  her  own  room,  to  forget  her  weariness  and  sor- 
row in  sleep,  which  was  the  boon  she  craved. 

During  Andy's  convalescence  she  received  a  let- 
ter from  her  Grandmother  Radcliffe,  pleading  for 
the  speedy  fulfillment  of  her  promise  to  return  South 
for  an  extended  visit.  Heartsick  and  restless,  the 
girl  decided  to  accept  the  invitation  as  soon  as  the 
health  of  her  family  was  sufficiently  restored,  and 
the  quarantine  lifted  from  the  town.  But  before 
that  anticipated  time  arrived,  Liberty  Despard  was 
stricken  down,  and  Victory  felt  that  she  must  post- 
pone her  trip  indefinitely.  She  could  not  think  of 
deserting  Miss  Lane  at  such  a  time. 

It  soon  transpired  that  Liberty  had  escaped  the 
smallpox.  After  a  few  days  of  close  proximity 
to  death  she  rallied,  and  it  was  thought  that  her  re- 
covery was  a  matter  of  time  only.  But  the  hope  was 
without  proper  foundation.  Apparently  free  from 
bodily  suffering,  the  girl  speedily  became  the 
shadow  of  her  former  self,  and  her  weakness  in- 
creased at  an  alarming  rate.  She  was  lying  on  the 


REWARDS  otf  FAITH.  305 

comfortable  lounge  in  Miss  Lane's  little  sitting-room 
early  one  evening,  when  she  said  to  Victory,  who 
was  her  faithful  attendant : 

"I  'd  like  to  see  your  Uncle  Jerry  again  some- 
time, Victory.  Is  Andy  able  to  wheel  him  over, 
or  could  you?" 

"To  be  sure  I  could.  I  '11  get  him  now.  He 
spoke  of  it  himself  at  the  supper  table  this  evening, 
but  I  was  afraid  it  might  worry  you." 

"It  never  worries  me  to  see  my  friends.  But  I 
did  n't  mean  to  put  you  to  the  trouble  to-night." 

"Why,  it  is  n't  one  bit  of  trouble,  Liberty,"  de- 
clared Victory,  hastening  away. 

"I  'd  like  to  go  too,  Victory,"  said  Andy,  when 
the  girl  was  preparing  to  wheel  her  uncle  to  the 
cottage.  "I  've  got  things  to  say  to  Liberty  myself." 

"O  well,  then,  come  right  along,  Andy.  I  knew 
you  were  n't  able  to  wheel  Uncle  Jerry,  and  did  n't 
think  about  your  wanting  to  go.  Liberty  will  be 
glad  to  see  you,  no  doubt." 

"She  's  no  call  to  be,  but  I  want  to  see  her  all 
the  same." 

When  the  three  had  reached  Miss  Lane's  little 
sitting-room  and  were  comfortably  seated,  Liberty 
asked : 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  Mrs.  Strong,  Victory? 
It  would  seem  like  old  times  to  see  you  all  together 
again." 

"Grandma  is  coming  this  moment,  Liberty.  She 
was  n't  quite  ready  when  we  came." 

After  some  general  conversation,  Hilda  Lane 
20 


306  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

said :  "I  've  never  heard  you  tell  about  your  visit 
at  your  Grandmother  Radcliffe's,  Victory." 

With  more  vivacity  of  manner  than  she  had 
shown  for  weeks,  Victory  gave  a  recital  of  her  ex- 
periences in  the  South,  describing  Nolville,  her  im- 
pressions of  the  people  she  had  met,  and  finishing 
with  a  vivid  word-picture  of  the  old  Radcliffe  man- 
sion and  its  interesting  inmates. 

"I  wish  you  could  go  with  me  next  time,  Lib- 
erty," she  remarked  in  conclusion. 

"I  would  like  to  go,  thank  you,  Victory.  It 
would  be  pleasant  to  travel  with  you,  and  I  should 
be  delighted  to  see  my  own  aged  grandmothers  at 
the  plantation  of  the  gentleman  who  has  been  so 
kind  to  Robert.  And  I  think  I  have  told  you  that 
Robert  has  selected  a  college  for  me  to  attend  this 
winter,  but — well — I  hardly  think  I  shall  ever  leave 
Payson  Bend." 

"O  yes,  you  will,  Liberty!  You  are  not  able 
now,  of  course,  but  you  '11  be  stronger  when  the 
weather  gets  cooler,"  declared  Victory,  cheerfully. 
"You  must  n't  get  the  blues  and  give  up  heart." 

"I  'm  not  blue,  but  I  Ve  been  called,"  replied  the 
girl,  softly,  unmindful  that  another  visitor  had  come 
into  the  room  from  the  side  door,  which  was  out  of 
range  of  her  vision.  "It  was  the  night  I  had  the 
call  to  nurse  the  Payson  Bend  people.  I  had  fallen 
asleep  after  the  first  call,  and  suddenly  I  felt  a 
touch  on  my  forehead,  and  then  a  voice  spoke 
through  the  darkness  and  said :  'It  is  I,  be  not  afraid, 
Liberty,  for  I  have  put  My  seal  upon  your  forehead, 


REWARDS  OF  FAITH.  307 

and  soon  you  shall  be  with  Me  in  the  glory  of  para- 
dise !'  That  was  why  I  was  so  willing  to  obey  the 
first  call.  I  knew  that  my  days  were  numbered, 
and  that  all  was  well." 

"What  was  the  first  call,  Liberty?"  asked  Vic- 
tory, with  bated  breath.  "Just  how  did  it  come  to 
you?" 

"It  came  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  I  had  been 
sleeping  when  the  voice  woke  me,  saying,  'Go  nurse 
the  plague-stricken  of  Payson  Bend,  Liberty  Des- 
pard,  for  so  shall  you  mightily  serve  your  people.' 
I  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened,  but  there  was  no  other 
word  or  sound.  I  was  not  frightened,  because  I 
have  been  praying  all  my  life  to  be  directed  to  the 
best  service  I  could  give  my  people.  I  don't  un- 
derstand just  how  my  labor  for  a  few  weeks  among 
the  sick  of  Payson  Bend  is  going  to  .serve  my  race ; 
but  I  believe  my  call  came  of  God,  who  plainly 
marked  my  path  for  His  own  purpose.  I  believe, 
too,  that  I  shall  soon  be  with  my  mother  and  my 
Savior  and  all  the  glorious  company  of  heaven.  I 
feel  the  touch  upon  my  forehead  that  woke  me  at 
that  second  call.  It  is  the  pleasant  seal  of  life — 
called  death." 

When  the  sweet,  languid  voice  had  ceased  to 
speak  it  was  very  quiet  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
until  Andy  Peters,  who  was  sitting  near  Jerry  Pay- 
son,  suddenly  yielded  to  heavy  sobs.  The  strain 
was  broken,  and  every  member  of  the  small  com- 
pany was  convulsed  with  emotion,  overcome  with 


308  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  might  of  Liberty  Despard's  simple,  sturdy 
faith. 

It  was  Mr.  Hodge,  who  had  come  in  quietly  at 
a  signal  from  Miss  Lane  at  Liberty's  first  words, 
and  who,  shaken  with  intense  feeling,  suddenly  slid 
from  his  chair  to  his  knees  and  began  to  pray.  It 
was  an  impassioned  appeal  to  the  Heavenly  Father 
signally  to  reward  Liberty's  faith  and  labor,  fol- 
lowed by  a  pledge  to  give  largely  of  his  own  sub- 
stance and  time  as  a  commissioner  in  the  furtherance 
of  the  better  welfare  of  the  race  so  nobly  repre- 
sented by  the  girl,  and  concluded  with  an  eloquent 
plea  for  the  guidance  and  blessing  of  the  Heavenly 
Host  in  his  efforts  and  on  the  people  yet  awaiting 
help  and  salvation. 

A  painfully  sweet  and  solemn  half-hour  followed 
this  breaking  up  of  hearts  and  souls,  but  soon  after- 
wards Mr.  Hodge  departed,  and  the  others  were 
speaking  of  going  home  also,  when  Liberty  said: 

"We  may  never  all  be  together  again  on  earth. 
Could  n't  we  sing,  'My  Country,  't  is  of  Thee !'  " 

"O  glory,  Liberty,  you  took  the  words  I  was 
going  to  say  right  out  of  my  mouth !"  declared  Jerry 
Payson.  "Let 's  all  join  and  sing,  comrades !"  and 
suiting  his  action  to  his  words  the  old  soldier  im- 
mediately began  the  song. 

It  was  a  common  occurrence  for  this  particular 
company  to  sing  that  especial  hymn,  but  a  peculiar 
sensation  thrilled  every  heart  when  the  unusual 
sound  of  Andy  Peter's  thin,  uncertain  voice  joined 
in  feebly.  It  was  too  much  for  Jerry  Payson  finally, 


REWARDS  otf  FAITH.  309 

and  near  the  end  of  the  second  verse  he  leaned 
towards  Andy,  grasping  his  bony  hand  and  shout- 
ing softly  but  triumphantly : 

"Hooray  for  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes !" 

"Yes,  it 's  just  that  way,  Jerry." 

"O  glory!  glory  hallelujah!"  cried  Jerry  Pay- 
son.  "I  knew  you  'd  come  home  by  'n'  by,  old  boy ! 
This  is  a  fine  world  to  live  in  anywhere.  But  to  live 
under  the  Stars  and  Stripes — O  glory,  it  beats  the 
rest  of  the  world  all  holler  I" 

"The  Stars  and  Stripes  will  do  as  well  as  any- 
thing, I  reckon.  I  s'pose  the  world  is  n't  as  bad  a 
place  as  might  be.  Maybe  it 's  against  me  the  same 
as  ever,  but  I  don't  feel  the  jag  of  it  like  I  did 
before  I  was  sick.  The  heft  of  what  pestered  me 
seems  to  be  gone.  I  've  never  acted  like  I  ought 
to  to  you,  Liberty,  and  I  have  n't  any  sort  of  right 
to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  but  I  come  over  on  purpose 
to  ask  you  to  forgive  me  the  way  I  've  treated  you 
and  the  mean  things  I  've  said  about  the  niggers 
in  general.  I  wish  you  'd  forgive  and  forget  what 's 
past,  and  give  me  a  chance  to  do  better  by  you  from 
this  on." 

"Of  course,  I  forgive  you,  Mr.  Peters.  I  've 
never  kept  anything  treasured  up  against  you  long 
at  a  time." 

And  so,  with  peace  in  their  hearts,  the  friends 
and  associates  of  many  years  parted  for  the  night, 
and  not  one  of  them  suspected  that  a  holy  messenger 
was  already  descending  the  midnight  skies,  or  that 


310  HiivDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

morning  would  find  Liberty  Despard  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  mother,  her  Savior,  and  all  the  glorious 
company  of  heaven. 

Never  in  the  history  of  Payson  Bend  was  a 
funeral  so  largely  attended  as  that  of  Liberty  Des- 
pard. The  church  was  filled  with  eager  people,  and 
many  more,  unable  to  enter  the  building,  hastened 
to  the  cemetery  to  station  themselves  near  the  grave 
for  the  final  obsequies.  The  minister,  fully  informed 
of  Liberty's  rare  faith  and  obedience,  and  of  the 
whole  fabric  of  -her  life  history  and  final  sacrifice 
of  self  to  the  need  of  the  community,  had  ample 
inspiration  for  an  immortal  sermon ;  and  the  heavily 
draped  chair  at  the  rear  of  the  pews,  empty  but 
eloquent,  was  a  reproach  that  broke  the  hardest 
heart  in  the  gathering. 

"Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least 
of  these  My  brethren,"  began  the  man  of  God  in  the 
deathlike  stillness  that  marked  the  opening  of  his 
address,  and  then  he  choked  on  a  sob,  wiped  his 
eyes,  and  getting  control  of  himself,  continued  his 
text  to  a  tearful,  "humble,  and  contrite"  audience. 

Whatever  Liberty  might  have  done  for  her  race 
had  she  lived,  it  is  certain  that  she  did  indeed 
"mightily  serve  her  people"  in  her  death  so  near  the 
hour  of  her  unselfish  devotion  to  her  one-time  ene- 
mies. 

Public  sentiment  at  high  tide  is  liable  to  over- 
flow its  own  reserves,  and  so  it  was  at  Payson  Bend 
for  a  season.  Many  bitter,  indifferent,  or  careless 
members  of  the  community  were  yet  suffering, 


REWARDS  OF  FAITH.  311 

gloomed  and  softened,  through  the  recent  harvest- 
ing of  death  in  their  midst.  And  while  only  a  few 
had  been  actually  served  by  Liberty  Despard,  the 
public  was  grateful  to  her  and  felt  reproached  for 
its  former  hostilities  toward  her.  It  is  always  a 
haunting  reflection,  when  brought  to  the  realization, 
that  we  have  spurned  an  "angel  unawares"  at  our 
very  doors. 

The  once  despised  Negro  girl  having  recently 
acquired  favor  as  a  heroine,  became  in  the  manner 
of  her  death  a  martyr  also. 

Payson  Bend  was  repentant.  Repentance  has 
proven  to  be  the  latchstring  of  many  a  treasury. 

Understanding  human  nature  fairly  well,  Mr. 
Hodge  launched  his  project  while  sentiment  was  at 
high  tide.  Before  the  sun  had  set  upon  Liberty's 
new-made  grave  he  had  begun  to  canvass  the  town 
for  the  purpose  of  raising  a  handsome  fund  to  be 
known  as  the  "Liberty  Despard  Mission  Fund,"  the 
annual  interest  to  be  used  as  a  benefit — spiritual, 
educational,  and  otherwise — for  the  colored  race. 
He  proposed  to  have  the  sum.  subscribed  and  in- 
vested, ready  for  dedication  and  christening,  on  the 
anniversary  of  Liberty's  birthday  in  November. 
Aside  from  being  actuated  in  his  labor  of  love  by 
the  noblest  Christian  motives,  Mr.  Hodge  was  a 
shrewd,  influential  business  man,  and  having  set  his 
hand  to  an  undertaking  he  did  not  consider  failure. 
Heading  the  subscription-list  with  the  half  of  his 
own  fortune,  he  could  present  his  cause  with  confi- 
dence. He  canvassed  the  community  thoroughly 


312  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  speedily,  and  found  among  the  humbler  classes 
none  too  poor  to  add  a  few  dimes  to  the  fund,  and 
among  the  well-to-do  none  too  niggardly  to  give 
generous  proof  of  their  willingness  to  assist  a 
worthy  cause. 

And  so  not  only  did  Liberty  Despard's  life  stand 
out  clearly  and  beautifully  as  an  example  of  Negro 
capability  and  responsiveness  to  noble  influences, 
but  her  faith  having  survived  a  crucial  test  un- 
dimmed,  symbolized  her  name  and  made  it  the  key 
to  golden  opportunities  for  many  of  her  people. 

The  magnetism  of  a  Christian  faith  that  survives 
the  furnace  fire  unscorched  is  an  influence  immeas- 
urable. 


XXVI. 
A  BROKEN  CONTRACT. 

A  GOLDEN  August  moon  hung  in  the  heavens 
above  a  unique  spectacle  set  in  the  space  between 
the  cabins  and  other  buildings  on  Colonel  Whit- 
more's  plantation.  For  within  the  shadow  of  the 
largest  warehouse  and  its  sheltering  trees  Robert 
Lane's  remarkable  night-school  was  in  session. 

Harvest  had  begun,  and  the  cotton  pickers  had 
labored  from  dawn  till  dark,  but  had  assembled  as 
usual  after  supper  for  study.  The  nightly  lessons 
were  always  followed  by  a  magic  lantern  exhibition 
of  some  sort.  Usually  it  was  a  life-size  represen- 
tation of  the  Man  of  Galilee  upon  which  Robert 
fixed  the  attention  of  his  rude  class  while  explain- 
ing the  scene  portrayed  in  simple,  forcible  words. 
Each  story  was  made  doubly  effective  as  an  incident 
of  Christ's  ministry  on  earth  coupled  with  its  per- 
sonal significance  to  men  of  all  successive  ages. 

On  this  particular  August  evening,  lessons  being 
over,  the  torches  extinguished,  and  the  long  black- 
board— with  its  display  of  singular  chalk  marks, 
which  only  triumphant  pupils  and  indulgent  teacher 
could  possibly  identify  with  the  letters  so  crudely 
imitated — set  aside,  the  Negroes  had  stretched  them- 


314  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

selves  on  the  ground.  Lying  thus  at  ease,  they 
formed  a  semi-circle  in  front  of  a  large  white  can- 
vas fastened  to  the  wall  of  the  warehouse.  Upon 
the  canvas  Robert  Lane  had  thrown  a  richly-colored 
reflection.  It  was  the  picture  of  Christ  healing  the 
leper. 

The  theme  was  especially  appealing  to  the  de- 
praved Negroes,  and  the  inferences  were  so  skill- 
fully drawn  and  applied  to  their  needs  that  their 
hearts  were  thrilled  and  softened.  There  was  no 
mistaking  their  interest  as  they  gazed  and  listened 
with  hungry  intentness.  Robert  was  more  and  more 
convinced  of  the  presence  in  all  human  creatures 
of  that  strange  sympathy  which  needs  only  to  be 
sought  and  touched  in  the  most  ignorant  mind  to 
respond  to  the  story  of  Divine  tenderness  and  love. 

Robert  had  met  with  meager  encouragement  dur- 
ing the  first  week  of  his  endeavors  at  the  settle- 
ment. The  Negroes,  while  appreciative  of  the  en- 
tertainment furnished  each  evening,  were  at  first 
stupidly  indifferent  to  the  opportunity  offered  them 
for  learning.  But  the  consecrated  instructor  pa- 
tiently labored  on — enduring  much,  hoping  much, 
believing  much — and  gradually  one  after  the  other 
were  won  to  the  task  of  learning  the  alphabet  as 
the  beginning  of  other  things. 

Night  after  night  Robert  had  rewarded  the  pa- 
thetic efforts  of  his  dull  pupils  with  splendid  Bible 
pictures  he  had  been  at  much  trouble  and  expense 
to  get,  and  told  and  retold  the  beautiful  stories  of 
the  gracious  Master's  ministries  and  miracles.  The 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  315 

soul-starved  Negroes  never  wearied  of  the  recitals, 
and  often  begged  to  have  them  repeated.  And  for 
the  generous  missionary,  who  lavished  time  and  pa- 
tience upon  them  without  price  or  visible  profit,  the 
uncouth  men  had  conceived  a  strong  affection. 

Indeed,  Ham  was  finally  the  only  diffident  mem- 
ber of  the  gang ;  and  his'  lack  of  gratitude  and  inter- 
est came  from  brooding  over  the  restraint  put  upon 
him  by  his  fellows.  He  was  still  infatuated  with  the 
negress  who  had  caused  his  first  offense,  and  who 
continued  to  visit  the  borders  of  the  plantation,  seek- 
ing interviews  with  him,  until  Dan  roughly  forbade 
her  to  come  near  the  premises.  Ham  was  resentful, 
and  indulged  in  thoughts  of  the  temptress  too  often 
for  his  own  content.  The  end  of  the  season  seemed 
very  far  away,  and  he  feared  the  woman  would  leave 
the  neighborhood  before  he  had  reached  the  honor- 
able fulfillment  of  his  contract. 

Upon  this  glorious  August  night,  however,  even 
Ham  was  thoroughly  interested,  and  with  the  others 
sought  to  delay  the  withdrawal  of  the  rare  picture, 
so  wonderfully  reflected  on  the  canvas,  by  asking 
simple  questions  concerning  it.  Robert  replied  in- 
dulgently, for  he  was  always  delighted  at  the  least 
inquiry  for  knowledge,  and  always  felt  greatly  re- 
warded for  his  labor  when  his  eager  charges  clam- 
ored for  another  vision  of  the  "Hebenly  Mars' " 
after  the  next  night's  lesson. 

Colonel  Whitmore  was  in  the  background  on 
this  occasion,  waiting  to  take  Robert  home  with  him 
in  his  coach.  Directly  after  the  light  of  the  lantern 


316  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

was  extinguished  Buck  drove  forward,  and  the  two 
men  were  getting  into  the  conveyance  when  Dinah 
and  Sarah,  who,  though  decrepit  with  age,  were 
among  the  most  diligent  of  the  night  class,  ap- 
proached and  asked  the  Colonel  for  the  gift  of  some 
paper  and  pencils.  The  news  of  Liberty's  death  had 
not  yet  reached  them,  and  they  wanted  to  print  the 
alphabet  and  have  Robert  send  it  to  her,  that  she 
might  know  how  very  learned  her  two  grand- 
mothers were  becoming. 

"You  shall  have  the  paper  to-morrow  without 
fail,"  declared  the  Colonel,  soberly,  "but  I  shall  claim 
the  first  copies  you  make.  I  'm  mighty  proud  of 
you  both,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  old  women  laughed  with  joy  at  their  mas- 
ter's approval,  and  happily  waddled  to  their  cabin 
door,  where  they  stood  crooning  to  each  other  as 
they  watched  the  coach  disappear  along  the  moon- 
lit road. 

There  were  three  white  residents  at  the  settle- 
ment. They  were  the  general  director,  the  keeper 
of  the  supply  store,  and  one  Anton  Lewis,  whose 
business  it  was  to  direct  the  drying  and  baling  of 
the  new  cotton.  Unknown  to  the  gang,  these  men 
constituted  a  night  watch,  together  with  Dan,  who 
usually  kept  guard  alone  till  midnight,  the  others 
then  dividing  the  after  part  of  the  night  among- 
themselves.  The  task  was  made  easy  by  means  of 
a  common  reflector  street  lamp,  stationed  at  the  far 
end  of  the  long,  curved  row  of  cabins,  and  as  the 
office  building  was  opposite  the  last  cabin  at  the  near 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  317 

end  of  the  row,  every  cabin  door  in  the  curve  was 
plainly  visible  to  the  guards,  whose  quarters  were 
in  the  rear  of  the  office  building. 

The  cotton  gin  and  warehouses  were  lighted  in 
similar  manner,  and  besides  these  provisions  four 
vigilant  bloodhounds  were  chained  at  intervals  at 
the  rear  of  the  main  buildings,  to  insure  the  new  cot- 
ton against  pillagers  that  might  easily  approach  un- 
seen by  way  of  the  timber  out  of  range  of  the 
guards. 

But  in  spite  of  the  precautions,  Colonel  Whit- 
more's  coach  had  scarcely  been  gone  an  hour  when 
a  form  glided  from  the  sheltering  timber,  crossed 
the  road  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  office,  and 
was  soon  safely  hidden  in  the  cotton-field  beyond. 
The  intruder  was  the  negress  so  fatal  to  Ham's 
peace  of  mind.  Only  the  wise  old  moon  witnessed 
her  coming,  but  her  departure  was  destined  to  be 
discovered  with  serious  results. 

Dan  noticed  a  peculiar  note,  as  of  a  desolate  dove 
calling  its  mate,  several  times  before  midnight,  and 
when  Anton  Lewis  took  up  the  vigil  he  too  heard 
it,  and  with  quick  suspicion  watched  the  lighted 
path  between  his  post  and  the  light  at  the  end  of 
the  row  of  cabins  intently.  The  mournful  cry 
seemed  to  rise  from  the  cotton-field  near  at  hand, 
and  grew  more  and  more  distinct  and  frequent.  At 
one  o'clock  a  burly  figure  emerged  from  the  cabin 
occupied  by  Ham  and  several  other  Negroes.  Anton 
Lewis  instantly  recognized  the  form  so  darkly  sil- 


318  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

houetted  against  the  light,  and  as  it  stole  around  the 
corner  of  the  cabin  hastily  awoke  Dan,  and  imparted 
his  belief  that  mischief  was  on  foot. 

Dan,  quickly  alert,  hurried  across  the  road  and 
slipped  along  in  the  shadows  back  of  the  cabins  till 
he  reached  the  point  where  Ham  had  disappeared. 
The  cotton  rows  were  little  more  than  a  dozen  yards 
from  the  cabins,  and  like  a  silvered  sea  the  field 
stretched  away  under  the  flood  of  moonlight.  But 
not  a  leaf  trembled,  not  a  white  crest  quivered,  so 
far  as  the  silent  watcher  in  the  shadows  could  de- 
tect, for  the  space  of  twenty  minutes ;  but  then  his 
roving  eyes  caught  a  movement,  and  presently  he 
discovered  two  cowering  forms  leaving  the  field  and 
crossing  the  road  toward  the  timber,  far  below  the 
office. 

Dan  ran  to  the  office,  gave  a  few  hurried  direc- 
tions, unchained  one  of  the  hounds,  and,  giving  it 
the  scent,  started  in  pursuit  of  Ham.  In  a  few  min- 
utes the  settlement  was  aroused  and  ready  for  action, 
a  part  of  the  gang  following  Dan,  who,  with  the 
hound  in  leash,  easily  traced  the  fugitives  to  the 
shallow  stream,  where  they  had  taken  to  the  water. 

In  less  than  a  half-hour  Ham  was  overtaken,  in 
company  with  the  negress  who  had  lured  him  to 
the  reckless  venture,  and  surrounded.  Some  of  his 
captors  were  so  enraged  at  his  flight,  and  incensed 
at  the  venomous  utterances  of  the  wench,  that  they 
threatened  her  bodily  harm.  But,  in  face  of  her 
danger,  the  woman  followed  her  captive  lover  back 
to  the  settlement,,  boldly  declaring  her  power  to  call 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  319 

down  destruction  upon  the  whole  company  if  Ham 
were  harmed. 

Dan  was  in  a  merciless  temper,  and  was  tempted 
to  let  the  gang  make  short  work  of  the  truant.  An- 
ton Lewis  had  secretly  saddled  a  mule  and  slipped 
away  under  cover  of  the  timber  to  apprise  Colonel 
Whitmore  of  the  situation,  and  the  other  two  white 
men  urged  the  wisdom  of  waiting  till  morning  to 
adjust  matters,  to  little  purpose.  The  Negroes  were 
impatient,  and  suspicious  of  delay.  Their  evil  tend- 
encies were  fully  aroused,  and  after  prolonged  mut- 
terings  they  broke  out  into  a  clamorous  demand 
for  Ham's  execution  as  the  only  surety  against  the 
overthrow  of  the  compact  so  nearly  completed. 

Nero,  the  most  vicious  of  the  gang,  was  the  lead- 
ing spirit,  and,  as  Dan  showed  no  disposition  to  in- 
terfere, the  two  white  men  soon  lost  control  of  the 
bloodthirsty  mob.  Ham  stood  leaning  against  the 
corner  of  the  warehouse,  hopeless  and  sullen,  and 
the  negress  hovered  near,  alternately  berating  him 
for  refusing  to  speak  and  pledge  himself  to  hold  out 
to  the  end  of  the  harvest,  and  cursing  the  growling 
Negroes  for  their  insistent  demands.  But  Ham 
could  not  be  induced  to  utter  a  word. 

The  fury  increased  to  its  climax,  and  then  the 
confusion  suddenly  lessened  and  there  was  a  critical 
movement.  Ham's  execution  seemed  inevitable. 
With  a  writhe  in  the  air,  the  pulley  rope  swung  out 
from  the  warehouse  crane  and  a  pair  of  black  hands 
caught  the  end  of  it  and  made  a  noose.  But  when 
the  noose  was  about  to  be  placed  over  Ham's  unre- 


320  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

sisting  head  the  negress  sprang  forward  like  a  wild- 
cat and,  catching  the  rope,  fought  over  it  with  Dan 
and  Nero  like  a  demon. 

In  the  midst  of  the  turmoil  a  horseman  dashed 
into  the  scene,  hatless,  coatless,  and  ghastly  with  the 
fear  of  being  too  late  to  prevent  the  tragedy.  It 
was  Robert  Lane,  who,  on  the  arrival  of  Anton 
Lewis  at  Colonel  Whitmore's,  had  sprung  on  the 
mule  the  man  had  ridden,  and  started  for  the  plan- 
tation immediately.  The  gray  of  the  morning  was 
beginning  to  melt  the  night  away,  but  the  sentinel 
lamps  were  still  casting  their  yellow  light  into  the 
arena  where  the  mob  had  gathered.  Robert  worked 
his  way  directly  to  Ham,  and  laying  his  hands  on 
the  Negro's  brawny  shoulders  looked  into  his  re- 
pulsive face,  exclaiming: 

"Ham,  Ham,  what  have  you  done?  Tell  me. 
I  will  stand  by  you !" 

The  commotion  ceased,  and  the  frantic  negress, 
discovering  the  possible  rescuer,  quit  fighting  over 
the  rope,  and  the  whole  gang  grew  silent  and  atten- 
tive. But  Ham,  surprised  into  speech,  muttered 
stupidly : 

"Go  way,  Mars'r  Lane!" 

The  wench  fell  to  the  ground  and  howled. 

"Get  up  and  keep  quiet!"  commanded  Robert, 
sternly. 

"Go  way,  Mars'r  Lane.  I'se  no  'count,"  mum^ 
bled  Ham  again. 

"Were  you  leaving  the  plantation  for  good, 
Ham?" 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  321 

"Ye'  sah.  'Count  of  Loozy.  Go  way,  Mars'r 
Lane." 

"You  were  doing  wrong,  Ham.  You  were 
breaking  your  word  and  cheating  the  gang  out  of 
their  harvest,  just  because  of  the  foolish  temptation 
of  a  woman.  By  and  by,  when  the  cotton  is  all 
gathered  and  sold  and  the  money  divided,  you  can 
take  your  own  share  and  go  away  with  Loozy  if 
you  like,  but  now  you  must  hold  to  your  contract." 

Ham's  face  twitched  painfully,  and  the  wench 
laid  flat  on  the  ground  and  howled  again. 

"Get  up  and  keep  still !"  commanded  Robert, 
more  harshly  than  before. 

"We  'se  done  toT  Ham  'bout  dat  Loozy  'nough 
times,  Mars'r  Lane.  We  'se  ain'  gwinter  trus'  him 
no  mo' !"  interrupted  Dan,  making  a  fresh  noose 
in  the  rope. 

"We  'se  done  tol'  Ham  'bout  dat  Loozy  'nough 
times!"  clamored  the  gang  with  rising  excitement, 
closing  around  the  group. 

"Wait,  brothers!"  exclaimed  Robert,  realizing 
the  desperate  impulse  that  was  swaying  the  men. 

"We  'se  done  tol'  Ham  'bout  dat  fool  Loozy  de 
las'  time!"  growled  Nero,  snatching  the  rope  from 
Dan's  careless  hands  and  flinging  it  upward  so 
swiftly  and  deftly  that  Robert  did  not  comprehend 
the  movement  till  the  loop  fell  over  Ham's  head. 
But  quick  as  a  flash  the  young  man's  hands,  which 
were  still  on  Ham's  shoulders,  slipped  up  into  the 
noose  and  his  wrists  were  caught  and  drawn  firmly 
against  the  Negro's  ebony  neck. 

21 


322  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Pull  yo'  ban's  out,  Mars'r  Lane!"  commanded 
Nero,  holding  the  rope  taut,  while  a  score  of  others 
were  clutching  at  the  slack  with  fiendish  impatience 
to  jerk  the  hulk  of  their  brother  into  the  air. 

The  negress  sprang  forward  again,  but  half  a 
dozen  rough  hands  drew  her  back,  holding  her  fast 
in  spite  of  her  fierce  struggles  for  freedom. 

"Brothers,  loosen  this  rope  and  release  Ham  and 
me!"  requested  Robert  Lane,  quietly,  turning  his 
head  sidewise  and  looking  backward  with  difficulty, 
for  he  was  pinioned  close  to  Ham's  bosom.  "I  have 
a  guaranty — a  promise  to  offer  you.  You  can  not 
afford  this  crime.  It  would  be  your  ruin.  Nero! 
Dan !  loosen  this  rope !" 

"We  'se  done  tol'  Ham  'bout  dat  fool  Loozy  de 
las'  time !"  declared  Dan,  sullenly,  making  no  move 
to  obey." 

"We  'se  done  tol'  Ham  'bout  that  Loozy  de  las' 
time,  Mars'r  Lane!"  reiterated  Nero,  tightening  on 
the  rope. 

"Yes,  I  know,  brothers.  Your  patience  has  been 
sorely  tried,"  replied  Robert,  gently,  "but  our  Heav- 
enly Master  has  been  patient  with  you  and  me 
through  greater  trials.  I  have  not  wronged  you,  my 
brothers.  I  would  lay  down  my  life  to  save  any 
'one  of  you  from  death.  I  ask  you  to  hear  what  I 
have  to  say.  Is  it  too  great  a  favor  ?" 

"Loose  that  rope,  yo'  Dan!  yo'  Nero!  Loose 
dat  rope !"  cried  old  Dinah,  authoritatively.  "Mars'r 
Lane  's  de  bes'  friend  we  'se  got  in  dis  worl' !" 

"Loose  dat  rope!"  echoed  many  voices,  and  as 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  323 

the  two  leaders  made  no  move  to  obey,  a  hideously 
dish-faced  giant  leaped  forward  and,  loosening  the 
noose,  lifted  it  over  Ham's  head. 

Robert  threw  one  arm  about  the  prisoner's  shoul- 
ders protectingly,  as  he  faced  the  mob,  saying: 

"Brothers,  I  will  stand  responsible  for  Ham's 
actions  until  his  contract  is  filled.  I  will  ask  Col- 
onel Whitmore  to  agree  to  that.  Give  him  another 
chance,  and  if  he  fails  again  I  will  take  his  place 
in  the  field,  and  you  shall  have  his  share  of  the  har- 
vest among  you.  Do  you  understand?  You  shall 
hold  my  life  as  security  for  Ham's  keeping  of  the 
contract.  Is  not  my  life  worth  as  much  to  you 
as  his?" 

"De  Lawd  bress  yo',  Mars'r  Lane!"  cried 
Loozy.  And  Ham,  shaken  by  such  evidence  of 
brotherly  love,  hung  his  head  and  moaned.  Dinah 
and  Sarah  began  to  sway  and  wail  dismally,  and  the 
mob  fell  back  wonderingly. 

"Sit  down  on  the  ground,  brothers,  your  night's 
rest  was  interrupted,"  said  Robert,  gently,  conscious 
of  the  advantage  he  had  gained  for  the  moment. 
"I  will  tell  you  a  story  while  we  are  waiting  for 
morning  and  Colonel  Whitmore." 

There  was  an  interval  of  hesitancy,  and  the  Ne- 
groes looked  at  each  other  inquiringly.  Presently 
the  dish-faced  giant  dropped  to  the  ground  with  a 
sigh,  and  one  by  one  the  others  followed  his  ex- 
ample, all  save  Dan  and  Nero,  who  remained  stand- 
ing near  Ham  and  his  protector.  Robert  glanced 


324  HII<DA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

over  the  small  sea  of  eager  faces,  and  after  striving 
with  memory  for  a  few  moments  he  riveted  the  at- 
tention of  every  listener  upon  his  first  statement: 

"Brothers,  not  one  of  you  can  tell  how  many 
hairs  you  have  on  your  head.  Neither  can  I  tell 
how  many  hairs  I  have  on  my  head.  But  God 
knows,  because  He  has  numbered  the  hairs  of  your 
head  and  mine;  and  He  knows  why  your  hair  is 
kinky,  and  why  the  white  man's  is  straight.  Once 
long  ago  God  made  a  man  whose  hair  was  the  secret 
of  his  great  strength." 

From  this  begining  Robert  proceeded  to  tell  the 
ancient  story  of  Samson,  and  of  how  his  downfall 
came  about  through  the  evil  influence  of  a  woman, 
carefully  choosing  portions  from  the  scenes  and  inci- 
dents of  his  career  and  imbuing  them  with  the  vivid 
coloring  of  life  and  action. 

Possessed  of  the  imagination  and  genius  of  an 
artist,  as  well  as  of  rare  tact,  Robert  Lane  adapted 
the  barbarities  and  situations  of  his  story  so  per- 
fectly to  the  understanding  of  his  rude  listeners  that 
he  held  them  spellbound.  He  brought  the  thrilling 
recital  to  a  close  just  as  Colonel  Whitmore  and 
Anton  Lewis  arrived  upon  the  scene,  their  approach 
having  been  unnoticed  save  by  Robert  and  the  three 
Negroes  standing  near  him.  Finishing  his  story, 
Robert  turned  to  Dan  and  asked  quietly: 

"Will  you  explain  this  affair  to  the  Colonel,  or 
shall  I?" 

"S'pect  I  '11  tell  him  in  de  office,  sah,"  answered 
Dan,  reservedly.  But  Colonel  Whitmore  waved  him 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  325 

aside,  and  hastened  to  Robert  with  relief  in  his  eyes 
as  they  fell  upon  Ham. 

The  gang  gathered  closely  around  the  central 
group,  watching  and  listening  intently  while  Robert 
explained  the  situation  and  presented  his  own  propo- 
sition. Without  comment  the  planter  turned  to  the 
negress  who  was  responsible  for  the  trouble,  and 
asked : 

"What  have  you  to  say,  Loozy?  You  are  to 
blame  for  Ham's  trouble.  I  can't  accept  Mr.  Lane's 
offer;  it  would  be  unjust  to  him  and  unfair  to  me. 
I  '11  take  you  as  bond  for  Ham's  working  out  his 
contract.  I  '11  take  you  and  no  other !" 

The  wench  howled  plaintively. 

"Enough  of  that !"  commanded  the  Colonel,  tak- 
ing a  firm  grip  upon  the  woman's  shoulder.  "I  Ve 
got  no  time  to  waste  with  this  sort  of  nonsense. 
You  came  to  my  premises  and  stole  one  of  my  la- 
borers. I  '11  have  you  jailed  if  you  're  going  to  go 
balky." 

"Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Massa  Whitmo',  lemme 
go !  I  ain't  stole  Ham !  He  jes'  tote  himse'f  wid 
his  own  laigs !"  declared  the  wench,  viciously. 

"Get  some  handcuffs,  Dan,"  ordered  the  Colonel, 
calmly,  evading  Robert's  bewildered  eyes. 

"Lemme  go,  Massa  Whitmo' !  I  '11  nevah  come 
back  no  mo' !"  wailed  Loozy  in  terror. 

Dan  came  with  the  handcuffs  and  slipped  them 
on  her  wrists  with  difficulty,  for  she  cursed  and 
struggled  with  her  captor. 

"You  'd  better  get  an  ankle  chain,  too,  Dan," 


326  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

suggested  the  Colonel,  composedly.  But  Loozy  fell 
to  the  ground  humbled  when  the  heavy  chain  was 
brought.  Glancing  at  Robert's  beseeching  face,  the 
Colonel  motioned  to  Dan  and  asked  of  the  negress, 
"What  are  you  willing  to  do,  Loozy  ?" 

"What  yo'  want,  Massa  ?"  questioned  the  wench, 
piteously. 

"I  want  you  to  stand  for  Ham's  good  behavior 
till  the  end  of  his  contract,  but  if  you  'd  rather  let 
Ham  hang  and  get  yourself  into  the  penitentiary  in 
the  bargain,  it 's  all  the  same  to  me.  Speak  up  if 
you  've  got  anything  to  say.  It 's  time  the  pickers 
were  getting  to  work." 

"Yo'  gwinter  let  Ham  go  free  ?" 

"Yes,  he  can  go  to  his  work  as  usual,  but  I  '11 
have  no  tomfoolery  going  on  here.  I  '11  have  to 
lock  you  in  the  strong  room  back  of  the  office,  unless 
you  'd  rather  pick  cotton  during  the  day  with  plenty 
of  grub  for  your  pay,  and  only  be  locked  up  at 
night." 

"Fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Massa  Whitmo'!  I'se  no 
slave !  I'se  free !  Lemme  go !" 

"Put  that  chain  on  Loozy,  Dan,  and  you  and 
Buck  hist  her  into  the  coach.  I  '11  have  to  take  her 
to  Nolville  and  jail  her.  Put  that  noose  on  Ham, 
Nero.  We  've  fooled  away  enough  time  with  this 
business.  Let's  finish  the  job  you've  started,  and 
then  you  fellows  get  into  the  field." 

But  evading  Dan's  grasp,  the  wench,  thoroughly 
conquered,  flung  herself  •  at  the  Colonel's  feet, 
screaming : 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  327 

"I'll  wo'k  in  de  fiel',  Massa!  I'll  sleep  in  de 
strong  room !  Let  Ham  go  free !" 

"Ah,  very  well,  shut  up  then!  Take  off  those 
irons,  Dan.  Throw  that  rope  aside,  Nero.  But, 
look  here,  Ham,  I  want  you  and  L/oozy  to  bear  in 
mind  that  I  '11  not  stop  to  make  .terms  if  there 's 
any  more  tomfoolery !" 

In  a  remarkably  short  time  order  was  restored, 
and  the  whole  force  were  at  work  in  the  cotton. 
But  Robert  was  considerably  shaken  by  the  morn- 
ing's experiences.  It  was  nearly  noon  before  the 
Colonel  was  at  liberty  to  speak  confidentially,  but 
then,  with  a  smile  wreathing  his  lips  and  a  gleam 
of  humor  in  his  eyes,  he  said : 

"Rather  took  your  breath  this  morning,  didn't 
I  ?  Thought  me  harsh,  heartless,  no  doubt ;  but  I  '11 
tell  you,  young  man,  a  planter  's  got  to  hold  the 
whip  hand  over  these  rascals.  There 's  no  other 
way  to  manage  them.  I  knew  what  the  outcome  of 
my  threats  to  Loozy  would  be,  and  the  gang  is  satis- 
fied. Ham  won't  try  to  escape  while  the  wench  is 
held,  and  she  is  glad  enough  to  work  out  the  penalty 
of  her  crime  without  formal  conviction  and  sen- 
tence." 

"Crime?" 

"Ha,  ha!  A  nigger  can  be  arrested  for  a  less 
offense,  and  sent  to  the  pen  to  boot.  But  I  had  no 
intention  of  carrying  out  my  threat.  A  serious  dis- 
turbance was  on,  and  had  to  be  settled.  My  bluff 
worked  like  a  charm  and  no  harm  was  done,  for  the 


328  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

wench  is  a  regular  hussy.  She  would  have  gotten 
Ham  into  some  sort  of  mischief  the  moment  a  temp- 
tation arose." 

"But  you  have  no  legal  right  to  detain  the  wo- 
man." 

"Ah,  it  is  easy  to  add  verbal  amendments  to  our 
code.  Like  your  Northern  Yankies  we  Southerners 
are  inventive  when  emergencies  arise.  We  're 
obliged  to  have  expansive  license  in  our  dealings 
with  Negroes.  That 's  where  the  law  of  compen- 
sation comes  in." 

Robert  was  not  convinced  of  the  justice  of  his 
friend's  vigorous  method  of  settling  the  difficulty; 
but  although  he  felt  that  there  was  a  sort  of  un- 
speakable wisdom  in  the  adjustment,  he  realized 
more  than  ever  how  broad  and  deep  a  chasm  sepa- 
rated the  Negro  serf  from  the  high  plain  of  brother- 
hood with  the  superior  race.  His  spirits  rose  before 
the  hour  for  lessons,  however.  The  Negroes  were 
in  excellent  humor  at  noon,  and  the  weather  was 
all  that  could  be  desired.  Oddly  enough,  when  the 
pickers  came  from  the  field  at  twilight  they  were 
singing  an  old  plantation  jingle,  and  Colonel  Whit- 
more,  who  was  standing  in  the  office  door,  smiled 
genially  as  the  army  passed  him,  and  said  to  Robert 
a  moment  later : 

"Bravo !  'All 's  well  that  ends  well,'  saith  the 
poet.  The  morning  star  witnessed  a  diabolical  scene 
in  this  arena,  but  the  vesper  star  beholds  the  gala 
of  happy  harvesters.  It  is  a  tribute  to  the  law  of 


A  BROKEN  CONTRACT.  329 

compensation  when  the  sun  sets  clear  after  the  fury 
of  a  tornado  has  shaken  the  day." 

"Yes,  sir;  and  when  earth's  sun  shall  have  set 
for  us  one  final  evening,  then  indeed  that  law  shall 
be  fulfilled,"  replied  Robert,  lifting  his  eyes  to  the 
high  heavens.  "And  then  we  shall  know  the  joy  of 
compensation  for  the  storms  that  have  so  sadly 
shaken  our  souls  in  life's  dismaying  trials." 

"A  pretty  sentiment,  but  I  've  outgrown  it,"  said 
the  Colonel,  reflectively.  "When  I  was  a  little  lad 
my  mother  made  a  silken  coverlet  for  my  trundle- 
bed  and  broidered  it  with  pink  rosebuds.  I  thought 
it  very  beautiful.  I  meant  to  sleep  beneath  it  all 
my  life,  but  I  outgrew  the  trundle-bed  and  was 
obliged  to  take  a  high  poster  in  a  chamber  away 
from  my  mother's  room.  The  pretty  coverlet 
wouldn't  fit  the  larger  bed.  Well,  I  learned  to 
sleep  without  it  and  without  my  mother's  kisses  and 
my  childish  prayers;  but  I  haven't  forgotten  them. 
Often  when  I  am  very  weary  and  depressed,  it  rests 
me  to  think  of  those  things.  But  enough  of  that. 
Childhood  is  past,  and  its  faiths  and  its  toys  are 
broken.  Manhood  reconciled  me  to  doubt,  and  took 
my  faith.  'What  man  knoweth  whence  he  cometh 
or  whither  he  goeth  ?'  " 

"Sir,  you  have  missed  the  way  of  knowledge 
and  gone  astray  with  ignorance,  else  doubt  had  not 
found  you.  Faith  is  knowledge.  I  have  knowledge, 
for  I  know  of  a  surety  that  one  day  I  shall  be  raised 
to  dwell  with  Him  who  said,  'And  I,  if  I  be  lifted 


330  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me.' 
Come  with  me  into  the  way  of  knowledge,  Colonel 
Whitmore." 

The  Colonel,  making  no  reply,  whistled  softly 
as  he  watched  Dan  light  the  sentinel  lamp  at  the 
far  end  of  the  row  of  cabins. 


XXVII. 
CUPID'S  AFFAIRS. 

THE  quarantine  had  been  lifted  some  days  before 
Liberty  Despard's  death,  and  another  week  had 
gone  by  since  the  latter  memorable  event  without 
bringing  any  sign  of  the  Horines.  But  an  evening 
came  when,  as  the  Paysons  were  about  to  leave  the 
veranda  for  the  night,  some  one  came  striding  up 
the  driveway,  and  in  a  moment  Judge  Horine  had 
reached  the  group. 

"Have  a  chair,  Judge,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  after 
greetings  had  been  exchanged. 

"No,  thank  you.  We  just  got  home  an  hour 
ago,  and  I  have  several  things  to  attend  to.  I 
wanted  a  private  word  with  you,  Victory,  if  agree- 
able." 

"Certainly,  Judge.  If  you  don't  care  to  come 
into  the  house,  I  will  walk  down  to  the  gate  with 
you,"  replied  the  girl,  thankful  that  the  friendly 
darkness  hid  her  confusion. 

"Victory,"  said  the  Judge  when  they  had  reached 
the  gate,  "you  are  a  sensible  girl,  and  I  want  you 
to  remember  that  when  it  comes  to  the  point  I  've 
more  real  fatherly  affection  for  you  than  for  any 
other  young  lady  of  my  acquaintance.  You  Ve  been 
331 


332  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

a  favorite  with  me  all  your  life,  and  I  was  more  than 
pleased  when  Eric  first  told  me  of  your  promise 
to  become  his  wife.  Absolutely  nothing  less  than 
the  discovery  of  your  father's  ancestry  could  have 
brought  me  to  regret  my  son's  choice.  But  he  is 
my  only  child,  and — it 's  of  no  use  to  beat  about  the 
bush — I  've  forbidden  him  to  marry  you,  and  know- 
ing my  principles  you  understand  the  importance  of 
his  obedience.  He  is  utterly  unreasonable  and  de- 
clares his  determination  to  marry  you  in  spite  of 
God,  man,  or  the  devil.  His  defiance  has  caused 
serious  trouble  between  us  already,  and  I  must  de- 
pend upon  your  maidenly  pride  and  modesty  to  see 
that  my  wishes  are  respected.  There  is  no  need  to 
explain  further.  You  comprehend  the  situation, 
do  n't  you  ?" 

"Perfectly,  I  think.  You  want  me  to  promise 
that  I  will  not  allow  Eric  to  marry  me  without  your 
consent,"  replied  Victory,  quietly. 

"Something  to  that  effect  would  relieve  me  of 
much  anxiety." 

"Very  well,  Judge  Horine,  you  have  my  word  of 
honor  that  I  will  never  become  your  daughter-in- 
law  against  your  will." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear.  I  knew  you  were  a  brick. 
You  've  got  the  right  quality  of  sense  and  spirit," 
said  the  man,  triumphantly.  "And  now  I  want  you 
to  go  home  with  me  for  an  hour  or  so.  We  brought 
Eric  home  from  a  St.  Louis  hospital  this  evening. 
He  has  been  dangerously  ill  for  weeks.  We  did  n't 
know  how  things  were  going  to  turn  out  for  a  while, 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  333 

and  he  is  extremely  weak  yet,  scarcely  able  to  stand 
on  his  feet;  but  the  moment  we  got  home  he  tried 
to  dodge  his  mother  and  me  and  come  over  here  to 
see  you.  He  is  n't  able  to  come,  and — well,  we  are 
obliged  to  humor  his  fancies  just  now,  he  is  so 
easily  excited,  so  I  told  him  I  'd  get  you  to  come 
over  there  if  he  'd  lie  down  and  behave  himself. 
It 's  late,  I  know,  but  the  scamp  won't  sleep  till  he 
sees  you.  You  '11  go  over  with  me  now,  won't  you  ?" 

"I  think  not.  I  have  planned  to  start  South  on 
an  extended  visit  to-morrow  morning.  It  might  be 
wiser  for  me  to  go  without  seeing  Eric  at  all.  It 
would  certainly  excite  him  to  have  me  treat  him 
with  reserve,  and  I  could  only  excuse  my  actions 
by  revealing  my  promise  to  you." 

"It  is  n't  necessary  to  mention  that  just  yet,  Vic- 
tory. We  will  have  to  humor  the  boy  for  awhile. 
He  is  desperately  weak,  and  the  doctor  has  warned 
us  against  another  relapse;  he  has  had  one." 

"But  surely  you  don't  expect  me  to  allow  him 
to — have  you  no  consideration  for  my  embarrass- 
ment, Judge  Horine?" 

"Of  course  I  realize  that  your  position  will  be 
a  trifle  awkward,  but  I  think,  for  Eric's  sake,  you 
should  be  willing  to  meet  him  the  same  as  usual  and 
leave  unpleasant  facts  to  develop  later  on  when  he 
is  stronger." 

"O,  you  do?  Well,  sir,  your  conception  of  my 
maidenly  pride  and  modesty  is  at  fault.  Since  you 
have  put  a  very  delicate  matter  into  my  hands  to 
adjust,  I  must  beg  that  you  allow  me  to  retain  some 


334  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

measure  of  self-respect.  I  can  not  visit  any  young 
gentleman  who  is  less  than  my  betrothed  at  this 
time  of  night,  however  ill  he  may  be,  in  the  guise 
of  a  sweetheart.  Why  has  Eric  not  written  to  me? 
Was  it  because  of  your  commands?" 

"He  couldn't  have  written.  He  has  been  too 
sick — delirious  part  of  the  time — and  besides,  his 
right  arm  has  been  in  bandages.  But  come,  Vic- 
tory, do  n't  be  prudish,  I  promised  to  bring  you  back 
with  me." 

"You  promised  without  my  consent.  I  can  not 
go,  but  I  will  write  a  line  to  Eric.  Perhaps  that 
will  console  him  for  to-night.  Will  you  wait  for  it" 

"If  it 's  the  best  you  will  do ;  but  I  know  it  won't 
satisfy  Eric.  You  are  unreasonable  and  stubborn, 
after  all,  Victory,"  grumbled  the  man. 

"Indeed?  I  wonder  if  I  have  the  monopoly  of 
those  faults,"  replied  the  girl,  saucily,  as  she  started 
up  the  driveway.  In  a  few  minutes  she  returned 
with  an  envelope,  which  she  handed  the  Judge  in 
silence. 

"There 's  nothing  disturbing  in  it,  is  there  ?" 
queried  the  man,  hesitatingly. 

"Not  a  word  concerning  my  promise  to  you  or 
my  relation  to  Eric." 

"All  right,  then.  Eric  's  weak  and  easily  upset 
just  now." 

When  Judge  Horine  'reached  home,  Eric,  who 
was  lying  on  the  sitting-room  couch,  white  and  wan 
and  with  his  right  arm  in  a  sling,  raised  himself  on 
his  left  elbow  and  asked  eagerly: 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  335 

"Where  is  Victory,  father?    Is  n't  she  coming?" 

The  Judge  cleared  his  throat,  and,  assuming  a 
carelessness  he  did  not  feel,  replied : 

"The  little  minx  was  miffed  because  you  had  n't 
written.  She  intimated  that  she  felt  aggrieved  at 
your  silence,  or  something  of  that  sort.  I  explained 
that  you  had  n't  been  able,  and  it 's  all  right  now, 
but  she  thought  it  rather  late  to  come  over  to-night. 
She  sent  this  note,  and  said  you  'd  have  to  make  out 
till  morning." 

With  a  look  of  disappointment  Eric  opened  the 
missive,  but  after  reading  its  message  he  sank  back 
on  his  pillows  with  a  long,  deep  sigh  of  relief,  and, 
raising  his  glad  eyes  to  his  father's  anxious  face, 
he  said  tremulously : 

"It's  all  right  now,  father,  isn't  it?  Thank 
God!" 

"What's  all  right?"  asked  the  Judge,  half  fear- 
fully. 

"Did  n't  Victory  tell  you,  sir  ?    Read  this." 

The  light  was  bright,  and  Judge  Horine  was 
blessed  with  good  eyesight,  but  he  blinked  as  if  he 
found  difficulty  in  reading  the  simple  message, 
which  was : 

"DEAR  ERIC, — It  was  all  a  mistake  about  my 
father.  I  haven't  a  drop  of  Negro  blood  in  my 
veins.  My  ancestry  is  proven  exceptionally  good. 
I  am  so  sorry  you  have  been  so  very  sick. 

"VICTORY." 


336  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

i 

"Humph!  The  minx!"  ejaculated  the  man 
finally,  tossing  the  note  into  his  wife's  lap  and  strid- 
ing out  of  the  room  and  across  the  road.  He  found 
Victory  at  the  gate  where  he  had  left  her,  but  the 
darkness  hid  her  mischievous  smiles  from  him. 

"You  little  hypocrite!"  he  exclaimed,  gruffly, 
forcibly  drawing  her  through  the  gateway  and  along 
the  walk  toward  his  own  home.  "I  Ve  a  mind  to 
break  your  neck !  What  do  you  mean  by  hoodwink- 
ing me  that  way  ?  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  the  truth 
at  once  ?" 

"Have  a  care,  sir !  Hands  off !"  demanded  Vic- 
tory in  mock  indignation.  "I  '11  have  -the  law  on  you 
for  kidnaping!" 

"I  've  been  authorized  to  seize  you  on  the 
grounds  of  an  attachment,"  retorted  the  Judge, 
grimly,  "and  you  need  n't  ask  for  grace." 

"But  I  may  fine  you  for  violence!  And  be  it 
known,  sir,  I  '11  not  be  forced  into  your  house  and 
into  the  presence  of  your  son  except  on  the  terms 
of  a  compromise !"  declared  the  girl,  trying  to  main- 
tain her  aspect  of  indignation. 

"Frame  your  compromise,  fix  your  own  terms, 
and  present  your  case.  I  '11  agree  to  instruct  the 
Judge,  and  he  '11  instruct  the  jury  to  favor  Eric's 
suit,"  answered  the  man,  humorously. 

Mrs.  Horine  was  waiting  at  the  hall  door,  and, 
when  she  had  kissed  Victory  and  whispered  a  few 
regretful  words,  led  her  to  the  sitting-room,  and 
gently  pushing  her  in  closed  the  door  that  she  might 
meet  her  eager  lover  alone. 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  337 

"Victory!  O  Victory,  my  darling?"  cried  Eric, 
joyfully. 

"Humph!"  grunted  Judge  Horine,  sinking  into 
a  chair  on  the  porch.  "Did  you  hear  that,  Madam? 
It  beats  the — the — Dutch !" 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  Victory  again  post- 
poned her  visit  to  her  Grandmother  Radcliffe. 

"You  'd  better  arrange  to  go  South  with  Victory 
in  the  fall,  Eric,"  said  Judge  Horine  one  day  soon 
after  their  return.  "You  '11  need  to  browse  for  a 
few  months  before  you  get  down  to  your  law 
studies." 

"You  mean — "    Eric  paused,  flushing  hotly. 

"I  mean  on  a  honeymoon  vacation,  of  course." 

Victory  was  not  too  easily  persuaded,  but  was 
finally  won  to  the  plan,  and  wrote  to  her  grand- 
mother accordingly.  Then,  while  Eric  was  growing 
stronger,  she  set  to  work  on  the  delightful  task  of 
preparing  her  trousseau. 

One  evening  late  in  September  the  girl  found 
Jerry  Payson  on  the  veranda  alone,  singing,  "Just 
Before  the  Battle,  Mother,"  with  sorrowful  quavers 
in  his  voice,  and  cried  out  gayly: 

"Where  is  my  gay  old  uncle?  This  mournful 
fellow  reminds  me  of  a  graveyard  owl !" 

"Maybe  I  do  hoot  like  one,  but  I  do  n't  feel  like 
one,  even  if  I  am  sort  of  down  in  the  mouth.  I  've 
got  a  heap  to  make  me  happy,  but  the  days  seem  un- 
common long  here  lately.  I  was  thinking  about 
Hilda.  She  has  n't  been  over  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
was  looking  mighty  peaked  and  bad  the  last  time  I 

22 


338  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

saw  her.  I  reckon  she 's  fretting  some  for  Liberty. 
I  wish  you  'd  go  over  after  supper  and  see  if  she  's 
well  and  what  she's  up  to  these  days.  Will  you, 
Victory?" 

"Why,  to  be  sure  I  will,  Uncle  Jerry !"  cried  the 
girl,  smilingly.  It  was  nearly  dark,  however,  before 
she  was  at  liberty  to  keep  her  promise.  Slipping 
out  on  the  veranda  quietly  she  found  Jerry  Payson 
dozing  in  his  chair,  and  asked  softly  as  she  bent 
over  him : 

"Are  you  asleep,  Uncle  Jerry  ?" 

"I  reckon  not  just  now,"  was  the  startled  reply. 
"Is  Hilda  well,  Victory?" 

"I  have  n't  been  over  yet.  I  'm  going  now,  and 
thought  perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  going  with 
me." 

"O  glory,  I  would  n't  mind  it  a  bit !"  exclaimed 
the  man,  eagerly. 

Miss  Lane  was  sitting  by  the  cottage  window  in 
the  darkness,  thinking  of  Robert  and  Liberty,  when 
she  heard  her  callers  coming,  and  cried : 

"Sakes  alive,  is  that  you  fetching  Jerry  over, 
Victory  ?  Why,  what 's  going  to  happen  ?  Will  you 
come  into  the  house,  or  shall  I  bring  some  rocking 
chairs  out  on  the  porch?" 

"It  would  be  a  heap  of  trouble  to  hist  me  into 
the  house,  chair  and  all,  wouldn't  it?"  asked  the 
old  soldier,  insinuatingly. 

"Not  a  mite!"  declared  Miss  Lane,  hastening 
out.  "You  take  a  good  hold  on  that  side,  Victory. 
There,  that  was  n't  any  trick !  I  '11  go  ahead  and 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  339 

light  a  lamp.  Just  wheel  Jerry  right  into  the  sitting- 
room,  Victory." 

"What's  your  parlor  for,  Hilda?  Do  you  keep 
it  for  Lem  Hall?  I  saw  him  coming  away  from 
here  the  other  day." 

"I  was  n't  here  to  see  him,  Jerry,  so  I  reckon  he 
did  n't  get  into  my  parlor.  But,  sakes  alive,  Victory, 
do  wheel  Jerry  into  the  parlor.  I  '11  fetch  the  lamp 
in  there,"  retorted  the  woman,  bustling  away. 

"Why,  Uncle  Jerry !  You  've  left  your  manners 
at  home,  have  n't  you  ?"  cried  Victory,  merrily. 

"I  reckon  maybe  I  did.  I  wish  you  'd  run  home 
and  get  them.  If  you  're  back  here  by  half  after 
nine  it  '11  be  plenty  soon,"  was  the  unblushing  reply. 

Miss  Lane  was  out  of  hearing,  but  Victory's 
laughter  rang  out  like  sweet  music  as  she  declared : 

"All  right,  sir,  I  '11  go  home !  But  as  for  coming 
back — I  '11  think  about  that !  You  '11  have  to  wait 
till  the  spirit  moves  me." 

Miss  Lane  came  in  with  the  lamp  presently,  and 
was  a  trifle  embarrassed  to  find  Jerry  Payson  alone. 

"How  is  Andy  getting  on  now-days  ?"  she  ques- 
tioned, confusedly. 

"Just  tolerable.  It  is  n't  Andy  I  've  got  on  my 
mind  to-night,  Hilda." 

"Well,  I  'm  glad  he  's  up  and  about  all  the  time. 
He  coughs  mighty  bad  yet,  I  notice.  I  was  thinking 
of  Robert  and  Liberty  when  you  came.  I  miss  Lib- 
erty more  than  I  can  say ;  but  of  course  I  would  n't 
ask  to  have  her  back.  She  died  happy  and  con- 
tented, and  that 's  a  great  comfort  to  me." 


34°  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  reckon  so,  Hilda ;  but  I  'm  afraid  you  're  fret- 
ting for  her.  You  Ve  nothing  particular  to  keep 
you  at  the  cottage  now,  and — that  light 's  brighter  'n 
common,  is  n't  it  ?  Could  n't  you  put  it  out  in  the 
other  room  ?  It  sort  of  hurts  my  eyes." 

"Sakes  alive !  why  did  n't  you  say  so,  Jerry  ?" 

"Well,  I  have  said  it  now.  Thanky,  that 's  a 
heap  more  comfortable.  Fetch  your  rocking  chair 
up  closer,  Hilda." 

"I  'm  tolerable  close  now,"  faltered  the  woman, 
nervously. 

"But  you  're  too  far  off  for  me  to  touch.  O 
glory,  come  closer !"  urged  the  man,  coaxingly. 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry,  I  can  hear  plenty  good 
right  here." 

"Maybe  so,  but — I  wanted  to  ask  you  something 
particular.  I  reckon  I  'd  best  have  staid  home." 

"What  is  it  you  want  to  know,  Jerry?"  asked 
Miss  Lane,  softly,  after  a  short  silence. 

"It 's  about  that  gold  ring.  Would  you  have 
been  wearing  it  when  I  came  home  from  the  army 
if  I  had  n't  been  all  shot  to  pieces,  and  Andy  had  n't 
held  it  back  from  you?  Would  you,  Hilda??" 

"Yes,  I  would  have  worn  it  in  spite  of  every- 
thing— everything — Jerry,  if  I  had  got  hold  of  it." 

"O  glory !  If  I  could  just  move  over  where  you 
are,  Hilda !  Come  closer,  won't  you  ?  Or  have  you 
got  past  what  you  felt  for  me  then  ?" 

"I  take  it,  love  of  the  right  sort  don't  get  past 
itself,  no  matter  what  comes  to  pass." 

"I  take  it  that  way,  too ;  but  maybe  yours  for  me 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  341 

has  got  free  from  hindering  things  a  mite  too  late. 
Is  it  too  late  for  you  to  wear  that  ring  for  what  it 
meant  when  I  sent  it  to  you,  Hilda  ?" 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry,  I — I  don't  know  as  it  is." 

"Well,  if  you  love  me  yet  as  I  do  you,  and  you 
feel  willing  to  wear  that  ring,  just  move  up  closer, 
Hilda." 

There  was  a  move  in  the  dim  parlor,  and  Jerry 
Payson's  outreaching  hand  found  the  one  it  was 
searching  for.  "Just  a  mite  closer,  Hilda,"  he  whis- 
pered, and  when  she  was  nearer  he  let  go  of  her 
hand  and  caught  her  around  the  shoulders. 

"Dear  me,  Uncle  Jerry !"  cried  Victory  from  the 
doorway  an  hour  later,  "did  Aunt  Hilda  make  you. 
sit  in  this  dark  parlor?" 

"Dark?  Why,  it's  about  the  lightest  place  I 
ever  got  into !  O  glory,  it 's  plenty  light,  is  n't  it, 
Hilda  ?  'T  is  n't  time  for  me  to  go  home  yet,  is  it  ?" 

"It's  ten  o'clock,  and  that's  time  for  all  good 
boys  to  be  in  bed,  is  n't  it  ?" 

"Shucks!  take  me  home  then.  I  hate  to  go, 
though.  Fetch  in  that  lamp,  Victory.  I  want  to 
take  a  good  look  at  Hilda.  She 's  promised  to  adopt 
me  to-morrow." 

"Sakes  alive,  Jerry !  You  know  that  is  n't  so !" 
declared  the  woman. 

"Well,  maybe  it  was  n't  to-morrow,  but  it  ?s 
bound  to  be  soon." 

"O  I  'm  so  glad  for  both  of  you !"  cried  Victory, 
delightedly.  "I  heard  what  Andy  said  that  day 
when  he  thought  he  was  dying.  Grandma  told  me 


342  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

to  stay  handy  in  case  I  should  be  needed,  but  I  sat 
in  the  hall.  I  had  never  imagined  your  affection 
for  each  other  before  that,  and  I  've  been  longing 
for  things  to  get  straightened  out  between  you  ever 
since." 

"Things  are  straight  now  for  good  and  all,"  said 
the  old  soldier,  who  was  drawing  his  beloved  flag 
across  his  body,  as  if  to  hide  its  imperfections  from 
the  woman  he  loved,  before  the  light  came  in.  "Can 
I  come  over  in  the  morning,  Hilda?" 

"I  reckon  not,  Jerry.  I  promised  Sam  I  'd  drive 
out  there,  and  I  won't  get  back  until  noon.  You  can 
come  in  the  afternoon,  if  that  '11  do." 

"I  s'pose  it  '11  have  to ;  but,  O  glory !  it 's  a  long 
time  till  to-morrow  afternoon.  But  I  '11  have  things 
fixed  handier  in  a  few  days." 

"It  '11  have  to  be  weeks,  Jerry.  I  've  got  duties 
to  the  living  yet,  and  Liberty's  will  to  carry  out  in 
the  giving  away  of  her  things.  We  can  wait  awhile 
yet,  and  be  happy  at  the  same  time." 

Half  way  up  the  driveway  Victory  paused,  and 
stooping  over  her  uncle  pressed  her  warm,  young 
lips  to  his  brow.  "Uncle  Jerry,"  she  said,  with  a 
quiver  in  her  voice,  "I  'm  so  happy  over  your  happi- 
ness. I  think  yours  and  Aunt  Hilda's  love  story  is 
the  most  beautiful  one  I  know,  except  Eric's  and 
mine." 

"Love  is  a  queer  contraption,  Victory,"  replied 
the  man,  solemnly.  "It 's  easy  to  get  into ;  but  there 
do  n't  appear  to  be  any  way  to  get  out  again." 

"Who  wants  out?"  asked  the  girl,  softly.    And 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  343 

the  pair  passed  on  up  the  shadowy  aisle  and  into  the 
shelter  of  the  old  mansion. 

On  her  way  to  the  farm  next  morning  Miss 
Lane  met  Lem  Hall,  who  drew  up  his  team  for  a 
chat.  After  the  usual  courtesies,  Mr.  Hall  asked: 

"Will  you  be  back  home  before  noon,  Hilda?" 

"It  '11  be  about  noon.    Why  so?" 

"I  had  laid  out  to  call  and  see  you.  I  was  there 
the  other  day,  but  did  n't  find  you  at  home.  I  'm 
on  the  hunt  of  a  wife,  Hilda." 

"So  I  thought  when  I  saw  you  going  to  see 
Betty  Bigelow  so  regular." 

"I  guess  Betty  's  a  good  enough  woman  and  all 
that,"  said  the  man,  coloring  and  shuffling  at  the 
halters  at  his  feet. 

"Yes,  she  is  so.  If  ever  she  marries,  I  hope 
she  '11  get  a  good  man  and  one  that 's  got  the  feeling 
and  sense  to  make  love  to  her  like  she  was  a  young 
girl.  She  's  got  a  hungry  heart  and  notions  of  love- 
making,  even  if  she  is  an  old  maid." 

"Is  it  Betty  you  mean,  Hilda  ?  or  do  you  feel  that 
way  yourself?" 

"It 's  Betty  I  mean.  I  take  it  you  'd  have  more 
sense  than  to  come  to  my  house  on  the  hunt  of  a 
wife,  Ivem." 

"I  ought  to  have  for  a  fact,  Hilda.  You  sent  me 
about  my  business  twice  when  I  was  younger  and 
better  looking  than  I  am  now.  But  there  's  no  fool 
like  the  old  fool,  you  know.  I  'd  be  willing  to  try 
again  if  it  would  do  any  good." 

"But  it  would  n't.    I  meant  what  I  said  the  first 


344  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

time  you  asked  me.  It  could  n't  be  any  different  if 
you  asked  me  a  hundred  times." 

"That 's  the  Lane  stubbornness  in  you,  Hilda." 

"Sakes  alive,  maybe  it  is.  Call  it  that  if  you 
want  to.  I  wish  you  well,  Lem ;  but  I  must  be  driv- 
ing on  now.  Good-bye." 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  Jerry  Payson  had 
gone  home  from  his  visit  at  the  cottage,  Miss  Betty 
Bigelow  ran  across  the  road  with  beaming  counte- 
nance. 

"My,  O  my,  Hilda!  I  thought  Jerry  Payson 
never  would  go  home.  What  possessed  him  to  stay 
here  the  whole  enduring  afternoon,  and  me  a  dying 
to  come  over  and  tell  you  a  secret?" 

"Sakes  alive,  Betty,  if  you  'd  got  at  me  sooner 
you  would  n't  have  the  pleasure  of  telling  it  now. 
What  is  it?" 

"Well,  I  was  sitting  piecing  away  on  my  red 
and  green  quilt,  when  who  should  walk  up  to  the 
door  but  Lem  Hall.  'Good  morning,  Betty!'  he 
said,  and  I  said,  'Good  morning,  Lem;  come  in, 
won't  you?'  Well,  he  looked  at  me  curious  like, 
and  I  felt  to  see  if  my  collar  was  fastened,  and  it 
was.  I  had  on  my  purple  wrapper  and  looked  nicer 
than  common,  I  guess.  'Take  a  seat,  won't,  you, 
Lem?'  says  I.  I  hate  to  tell  it,  Hilda,  but — well, 
Lem  said :  'I  believe  I  will,  Betty ;  but  you  '11  have 
to  sit  on  my  lap  and  name  our  wedding-day !'  And 
then  he  grabbed  me,  and — O  my,  I  was  that  scared 
I  nearly  fell  to  pieces.  I  don't  know  what  I  said, 
but  the  next  thing  I  was  sitting  on  Lem's  knees, 


CUPID'S  AFFAIRS.  345 

and  he  was — O  my,  I  can't  tell  the  rest,  Hilda,  it 
makes  me  feel  so  silly." 

"I  reckon  you  sent  such  a  fellow  as  that  about 
his  business,  did  n't  you  ?"  asked  Miss  Lane,  dryly. 

"Why — O,  you  're  just  in  fun,  aren't  you?  But 
Lem  did  n't  act  a  bit  cold-blooded  to-day.  Why,  he 
acts  like  he  worships  me  now.  When  I  hung  off 
about  naming  the  day  he  said :  'I  won't  wait  long, 
Betty.  I  love  you  like  blazes;  but  I  won't  stand 
any  offishness.'  I  can  see  now  just  how  it  was 
when  he  was  courting  Sally  and  Hester.  I  s'pose 
he  was  just  that  desperate  with  them.  Won't  my 
quilts  and  things  come  in  handy  now,  Hilda?" 

"They  will  so,  Betty." 

"I  wish  you  had  a  chance  to  get  married,  Hilda." 

"Well,  I  reckon  I  ought  to  tell  you  my  secret, 
Betty.  I  am  going  to  get  married  soon." 

"Why,  Hilda  Lane!    Who  to?" 

"To  Jerry  Payson,  the  only  man  I  ever  could 
have  married." 

"My,  O  my !"  ejaculated  Miss  Betty,  staring 
across  the  street  blankly.  "I  wouldn't  swap  with 
you,  Hilda,"  she  added,  presently. 

"Nor  me  with  you,  Betty.  I  'd  rather  have 
Jerry,  just  as  he  is,  than  any  other  man  in  the  whole 
world." 

"My,  my!  would  you,  Hilda?    O,  my,  my!" 

"Yes,  I  would,  Betty,"  declared  Miss  Lane, 
gently. 


XXVIII. 
FELICITIES. 

NOVEMBER  was  an  eventful  month  to  the  inmates 
of  the  four  dwellings  clustered  about  the  old  Payson 
corner-stone.  First  of  all,  Miss  Betty  Bigelow's 
marriage  was  pleasantly  celebrated  in  her  own  cozy 
home,  and  was  a  surprise  to  most  of  her  acquaint- 
ances; but  her  belated  romance  was  quickly  over- 
shadowed by  the  splendor  of  the  wedding  of  Victory 
Radcliffe  and  Eric  Horine,  which  took  place  a  few 
days  later. 

The  young  couple  were  extremely  popular,  and 
the  vague  rumor  that  had  gotten  abroad  concerning 
Eric's  illness,  from  which  he  was  so  slowly  recover- 
ing his  strength,  lent  a  charm  to  the  affair.  The 
pair  were  to  go  South  for  a  time,  and  it  was  hoped 
that  Eric  would  soon  regain  his  former  vigor. 

Naturally  the  old  Payson  place  became  the  focus 
for  all  eyes  and  interests  for  days  before  the  wed- 
ding, and  never  in  its  varied  history  had  the  house 
shone  with  such  beauty  or  been  the  scene  of  an 
event  so  important  to  the  society  of  Payson  Bend. 
The  ceremony  was  set  for  eight  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, and  when  the  hour  arrived  the  house  was  ablaze 
with  light  and  thronged  with  guests,  who  found  the 
pleasure  of  the  occasion  heightened  by  the  discovery 
346 


FELICITIES.  347 

of  the  consummation  of  another  unsuspected  ro- 
mance. 

True,  a  whisper  had  gotten  abroad  at  nightfall 
hinting  at  an  unannounced  wedding  which  had 
taken  place  at  Miss  Lane's  cottage  at  high  noon  of 
the  same  day;  but  the  report  had  not  circulated 
freely,  although  it  was  not  without  proper  founda- 
tion. It  was  indeed  true  that,  in  the  presence  of 
their  immediate  associates,  Jerry  Payson  and  Hilda 
Lane  had  quietly  taken  the  vows  of  wedlock.  Vic- 
tory had  not  pleaded  in  vain  to  have  the  rite  pro- 
nounced before  her  departure  for  the  South. 

After  the  Payson  house  was  deserted  of  its  many 
wedding  guests  late  that  night,  and  the  bridal  party 
were  on  their  way  Southward,  Andy  Peters  lingered 
in  the  sitting-room,  where  Jerry  Payson  and  Hilda 
were  enjoying  the  firelight,  and  planting  himself 
before  the  two  he  had  once  so  cruelly  wronged,  he 
said: 

''Jerry,  time  was  when  I  'd  Ve  knocked  the  day- 
lights out  of  you  before  I  'd  've  let  you  marry 
Hilda ;  but  now  I  'm  as  happy  as  a  bumble-bee  in 
a  clover  patch.  It  makes  me  feel  like  yelling  what 
you  're  always  shouting,  Jerry,  just  to  see  you  and 
Hilda  sitting  here  man  and  wife  for  the  rest  of  your 
enduring  days.  It 's  no  use  to  chaw  over  the  words 
I  said  when  I  was  nigh  kicking  the  bucket.  I  asked 
you  both  to  forgive  what  I  'd  done  against  you  then, 
and  you  did.  I  Ve  had  bad  luck  and  the  world  's 
been  against  me  considerable ;  but  I  reckon  it 's  as 
Hilda  's  always  said,  I  've  been  against  the  world 


348  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

and  myself  to  boot.  I  Ve  had  peace  in  my  mind, 
though,  ever  since  I  made  a  clean  breast  of  things, 
and  I  've  been  getting  along  in  the  way  of  happi- 
ness till — O  lordy,  I  don't  believe  it  would  rile  me 
much  if  Betty  Bigelow  was  to  trot  up  and  poke  one 
of  her  tarnal  bokays  in  my  face  this  minute.  But 
I  've  got  something  on  my  mind  I  want  to  say  right 
now: 

"Hilda,  Liberty  's  off  your  hands  for  good  and 
all  now;  Robert's  down  South  following  his  own 
bent,  and  the  Ritchies  are  company  for  themselves ; 
so  I  reckon  you  're  about  shut  of  your  old  adoptions, 
and  Jerry  's  the  only  new  one  you  've  got.  I  reckon 
you  won't  let  me  do  much  for  Jerry  any  more;  but 
you  '11  need  a  chore  boy  round  the  place,  and — I 
can't  abear  to  go  away — I  wish  you  'd  adopt  me 
along  with  Jerry." 

"Sakes  alive,  Andy.  I  'm  willing  for  you  to  stay 
right  on  here,  same  as  ever.  I  s'posed  you  would. 
Jerry  's  the  one  to  say  about  that." 

"O  glory,  Andy,  I  never  thought  of  turning  you 
off,"  said  Jerry  Payson,  feelingly.  "I  reckon  Hilda 
never  thought  of  adopting  me  without  you.  But 
'tween  you  and  me,  Andy,  we  're  about  the  worst 
adoptions  she  ever  tackled.  No,  no,  old  boy,  I 
do  n't  'low  to  give  you  up  while  I  live.  We  '11  all 
hang  together,  you  and  me  and  Hilda  and  Peggy, 
till  we're  taken  over  to  Crown  Hill  one  after 
t'  other.  Shake  hands  on  that,  old  boy,  and  do  n't 
fret  any  more.  We  've  got  plenty  of  room,  and 
you  're  mighty  welcome.'* 


FELICITIES.  349 

"Thanky,  Jerry.  Thanky,  Hilda,"  mumbled 
Andy,  quickly  turning  and  hobbling  out  of  the  room 
to  hide  his  tears  of  gratitude. 

"There  's  been  a  powerful  change  in  Andy  lately, 
Hilda,"  said  Jerry  Payson.  "Getting  nigh  to  death 
sort  of  set  his  wits  to  working,  I  reckon." 

'  'T  was  n't  getting  nigh  to  death,  so  much  as 
getting  nigh  to  God,  that 's  made  the  change  in  him, 
Jerry.  He  was  brought  to  his  knees  when  he  'd 
near  about  killed  you,  and  when  he  was  close  to 
the  grave  himself  he  come  to  the  last  point  of  stub- 
bornness, and  gave  up  that  God  was  at  the  head  of 
things  in  spite  of  things.  He  's  shoved  Ardy  Peters 
and  the  niggers  away  from  the  windows  of  his  soul, 
and  now  he  sees  the  world  in  the  way  God  meant 
him  to  from  the  start.  I  never  told  you  what  Andy 
said  when  he  came  over  to  see  Liberty  in  her  coffin. 
He  was  mightily  broken  up,  and  says  he :  'Hilda,  I 
reckon  God  don't  work  by  the  "survival  of  the 
fittest"  rule,  or  he  would  have  let  Liberty  survive 
in  place  of  me.  I  'm  an  old  man,  and  never  done  as 
much  good  in  my  whole  life  as  Liberty  in  a  little 
span.'  I  was  broken  up  too,  Jerry;  but  I  said: 
'Andy,  God  has  rules  we  can't  judge.  Maybe  He 
saw  that  Liberty  was  fittest  for  heaven,  and  was  kind 
enough  to  leave  you  yet  awhile,  and  give  you  a 
chance  to  get  fitter  than  you  are.' ': 

"What  did  Andy  say  to  that,  Hilda?"  asked 
Jerry  Payson,  with  emotion. 

"He  said,  'God  A'mighty,  have  mercy  on  my 
wicked  soul!'  and  then  he  went  away  crying  fit  to 


350  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

kill,"  replied  the  woman,  rising  and  going  to  the 
south  window,  a  trifle  overwrought. 

"Come  back  and  sit  down  again,  Hilda,"  said 
Jerry,  sympathetically.  "It 's  mighty  pleasant  to 
think  you  do  n't  have  to  go  across  to  the  cottage  at 
the  end  of  our  evening  visits  any  more.  It 's  pleas- 
ant just  to  know  we  're  going  to  spend  the  balance 
of  our  days  under  one  roof." 

"It  is  so,  Jerry,"  responded  the  woman,  dreamily. 
"It 's  dark  over  at  the  cottage.  I  can  barely  make 
out  the  edges  of  the  roof  against  the  sky.  I  '11  never 
forget  that  I  raised  Robert  and  Liberty  over  there, 
but  I  'm  glad  I  got  a  good  price  for  the  place  as  long 
as  I  do  n't  need  it  for  a  home  any  more." 

"I  hated  to  have  you  sell  it,  Hilda.  I  '11  hate  to 
see  other  folks  moving  in  and  living  there." 

"Well,  I  do  n't  feel  that  way.  I  do  n't  begrudge 
it  to  the  good  folks  that  bought  it.  I  '11  be  happy 
to  see  them  getting  the  good  of  the  fruit  and  flowers, 
and  I  am  glad  of  the  money  the  place  brought  for 
the  mission  fund.  That,  with  Liberty's  thousand, 
and  what  I  'd  laid  by  to  help  her  through  college 
with,  made  an  even  five  thousand.  I  wish  it  was 
more ;  but  I  could  n't  do  any  better  without  selling 
some  of  the  land,  and  I  do  n't  feel  that  it  would  be 
right  to  do  that  just  now.  I  'low  to  leave  the  land 
to  be  divided  even  between  Sam  and  Susy  and 
Robert  after  I  'm  gone.  I  want  to  treat  all  my  adop- 
tions fair,  so  they  '11  have  no  call  to  feel  hurt." 

"You  've  done  a  good  part  by  your  adoptions, 
Hilda;  and  as  for  the  mission  fund  you  gave  a 
plenty.  I  never  told  you  that  two  thousand  of  what 


FELICITIES.  351 

I  gave  was  money  I  had  tied  up  for  Liberty.  You 
know  I  told  you  I  had  n't  forgot  what  Rhody  Des- 
pard  did  for  one  of  my  blood.  Well,  that  and  the 
other  two  thousand  I  gave  was  pension  money  sav- 
ings. I  've  been  a  long  time  getting  the  money  to- 
gether, but  I  don't  begrudge  a  cent  of  it.  I  want 
you  should  know  the  secrets  of  my  heart,  Hilda. 
Down  deep  in  my  soul  I  do  n't  love  the  niggers  like 
brothers;  but  I  feel  for  them  and  I  want  to  help 
them  along  for  God's  sake,  for  their  own  sake,  for 
Liberty's  and  Robert's  sake,  and,  most  of  all,  for  the 
sake  of  my  hero,  Abraham  Lincoln!  Hooray  for 
Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes !" 

"You  Ve  never  got  over  being  a  soldier,  Jerry. 
I  do  n't  want  you  should,  either.  It  does  seem  that 
things  are  getting  settled  down  in  the  best  way  to 
make  folks  happy  all  round.  It 's  plainer  every 
day  that  God  's  at  the  head  of  things.  Sakes  alive, 
Jerry,  who  would  ever  have  thought  that  the  time 
would  come  when  Mr.  Hodge  would  start  a  mission 
fund  for  the  colored  folks,  and  head  it  with  half  of 
all  he  's  got  ?  or  that  Judge  Horine  would  give  what 
he  did,  or  Andy  be  brought  to  give  the  heft  of  his 
savings  to  the  same  thing?" 

"Yes,  it  is  past  understanding  how  things  are 
brought  to  pass.  But  it  is  n't  much  stranger  about 
Mr.  Hodge  and  the  Judge  and  Andy,  than  it  is  about 
the  whole  of  Payson  Bend.  I  reckon  the  whole 
town  is  proud  of  the  fine  lot  of  money  they  've  raised 
for  a  living  monument  to  Liberty  and  her  prayers. 
I  'm  of  a  mind  with  you  that  God  's  at  the  head  of 
things,  Hilda :  but  it 's  plain  to  me  that  you  're  at 


352  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

the  bottom  of  what  we  've  all  done  for  the  Negroes. 
If  it  had  n't  been  for  you  and  your  good  heart,  who 
would  have  adopted  Robert  and  Liberty  and  raised 
them  to  be  what  you  did  ?  And  if  it  had  n't  been  for 
what  Robert  and  Liberty  proved  to  Payson  Bend 
of  the  worth  of  the  colored  race,  how  would  the 
folks  about  here  have  been  stirred  to  do  what  they 
did?  I  believe  the  whole  lot  of  Negroes  that  will 
be  helped  year  after  year  with  the  interest  of  our 
mission  fund,  will  have  their  names  written  in 
heaven  as  'Hilda  Lane's  Adoptions.' " 

"Don't  give  me  too  much  credit,  Jerry,"  said 
Hilda,  tremulously.  "I  could  n't  have  adopted  Rob- 
ert and  Liberty  if  God  had  n't  put  them  into  my 
hands,  and  I  could  n't  have  raised  them  to  be  what 
they  got  to  be,  if  God  hadn't  stood  by  me  and 
helped  me  day  after  day.  I  never  had  a  trial  but 
what  it  was  made  plain  to  me  that  things  might  have 
been  a  heap  worse,  and  never  a  day  that  I  didn't 
feel  sure  that  God  was  at  the  head  of  things  and 
knew  how  to  bring  things  out  of  the  kinks  the  best 
way." 

"Well,  in  my  judgment  the  good  of  a  body's 
work  do  n't  end  on  the  day  it 's  done — not  when  it 
comes  to  adoptions,  anyhow.  There  are  blessings 
piling  up  for  you  in  heaven,  Hilda,  and  you  '11  hear 
tell  of  your  adoptions  over  yonder  by  'n'  by." 

"I  've  had  my  pay  right  along  day  after  day, 
Jerry,  and  more  than  my  share  of  blessings;  and 
now  that  God  has  straightened  out  the  muddle  of 
things  'twixt  us,  and  let  us  get  together  to  love  one 


FELICITIES.  353 

t'  other  without  hindrance  the  rest  of  our  days, 
there  would  n't  be  room  in  my  cup  for  many  more 
drops  of  happiness." 

"You  've  earned  all  you  've  had  or  got,  Hilda. 
I  wish  I  was  worth  what  you  '11  be  to  me ;  you  de- 
serve a  better  match.  But  you  '11  have  to  take  the 
flag  in  place  of  my  right  arm,  and  love  the  Union 
more  for  the  rest  that 's  lacking  in  me." 

"Hush,  Jerry.  I  've  taken  you  for  what  you 
were  to  me  that  night  before  you  went  to  the  army, 
and  for  what  you  've  been  to  me  from  that  night  on." 

"You  're  one  of  the  steady  sort,  Hilda.  I  mind 
what  I  said  to  Victory  once :  'Love  's  a  great  con- 
traption,' and  when  it  comes  to  the  love  of  a  woman 
like  you  for  a  fellow  like  me,  it 's  past  the  under- 
standing of  mortals.  But  it's  no  use  to  sit  here 
arguing ;  I  've  got  the  best  of  the  bargain,  that 's 
plain  a  plenty.  O  glory,  I  think  I  have!" 

"We  won't  quarrel  about  who  's  got  the  best  bar- 
gain. We  've  both  got  just  what  we  wanted.  I 
reckon  God  saw  this  day  coming  and  kept  the  heft 
of  our  happiness  for  the  time  we  'd  need  it  worst. 
I  s'pose  there  is  n't  much  in  this  world  worth  hav- 
ing that  we  have  n't  had  our  share  of  some  time  or 
other,  and  the  last  is  best  of  all." 

"That 's  how  I  take  it.  Some  of  our  joys  have 
been  taken  from  our  hands,  but  we  've  got  heaps  of 
blessings  left,  besides  each  other  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,"  replied  the  old  soldier,  tenderly.  "Come 
closer,  Hilda.  Let 's  sing,  'My  Country,  't  is  of 
Thee.' " 
23 


XXIX. 
RECOGNITION. 

IT  was  Christmas  Eve,  or  rather  Christmas 
morning,  for  the  mantel  clock  was  ticking  off  the 
small  hours  in  the  library,  where  Robert  Lane  sat 
with  face  buried  in  his  hands  and  elbows  resting  on 
the  table.  Within  the  circle  of  light  falling  from 
the  shaded  lamp  an  open  letter  lay  where  he  had 
pushed  it  aside  an  hour  before.  A  door  opened 
with  a  creak,  and  Colonel  Whitmore  emerged  from 
his  private  apartment. 

"Young  man,  you  are  troubled!"  he  exclaimed, 
with  fatherly  solicitude.  "Let  me  share  your  bur- 
den." 

"I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  have  disturbed  your 
rest,  sir,"  replied  Robert,  lifting  his  head.  "I  should 
have  retired." 

"I  haven't  slept  yet,  but  that  isn't  your  fault. 
I  have  been  thinking  of  our  Negroes  and  your  grow- 
ing influence  over  them.  They  never  knew  the 
meaning  of  Christmas  Eve  until  to-night.  That 
wonderful  tree,  though  laden  with  simple  gifts,  was 
thoroughly  enjoyed,  and  your  talk  while  exhibiting 
those  beautiful  pictures  of  the  Christ  Child  will 
never  be  forgotten.  But  you  have  overexerted  your- 
354 


RECOGNITION.  355 

self,  I  fear,  and  taxed  your  purse  far  too  heavily, 
my  friend." 

"I  had  ample  reward  in  the  delight  of  my  poor 
brothers.  I  am  more  than  satisfied  with  the  prog- 
ress they  have  made  during  my  labor  with  them." 

"You  have  reason  to  be.  They  are  coming  to 
regard  you  as  a  veritable  prince  of  light." 

"I  am  content  with  any  measure  of  their  affec- 
tion. But  it  is  near  morning.  I  will  go  to  bed. 
Please  return  to  your  rest,  Colonel." 

"When  I  've  shared  your  trouble,  my  friend," 
insisted  the  elder  man,  laying  his  long  slim  fingers 
on  Robert's  head  caressingly. 

Without  further  parley  Robert  picked  up  the 
open  letter  and  handed  it  to  Colonel  Whitmore,  who 
put  on  his  glasses  and  read  it  with  careful  attention. 
When  he  had  finished  he  asked : 

"Who  is  this  Captain  Bruce?" 

"He  is  a  resident  of  Payson  Bend — a  relic  of  the 
Civil  War,  and  a  fine  old  gentleman.  His  daughter 
was  my  promised  wife  for  a  few  weeks  just  prior 
to  the  time  I  discovered  my — " 

"I  understand.    You  released  her." 

"Yes,  sir.  She  was  away  from  home,  But  I 
wrote  explaining  my  position  and  setting  her  free. 
She  refused  her  release  by  return  mail,  and  re- 
quested an  interview  before  I  left  for  the  South,  but 
I  couldn't  trust  myself  to  meet  her.  She  would 
have  generously  tempted  me  to  a  speedy  marriage 
for  the  sake  of  comforting  me,  and  I  realized  how 
weak  I  was  in  my  desolate  frame  of  mind.  And 


356  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

her  father  had  told  me  that  he  would  never  consent 
to  the  connection.  I  wrote  again  after  I  reached 
here,  declaring  that  I  would  never  accept  the  sacri- 
fice she  might  be  willing  to  make  for  the  sake  of  our 
love,  and  believing  me  firm  she  then  pleaded  to  con- 
tinue our  correspondence  as  friends.  I  have  since 
gathered  from  her  letters  that  she  is  reconciled  to 
our  separation.  But  you  have  read  the  Captain's 
letter.  He  says  that  Flossie  is  cheerful  and  uncom- 
plaining; but  that  he,  being  quite  old  and  feeble 
and  near  the  grave,  feels  that  he  was  wrong  to  inter- 
fere with  his  daughter's  happiness.  And  so,  with- 
out letting  her  know  of  his  intention,  he  has  written 
to  recall  Jhis  objection  to  our  union.  He  asks  me  to 
visit  them  as  soon  as  convenient." 

"Are  you  greatly  attached  to  the  girl?" 

"Attached,  sir?  I  have  loved  her  for  years! 
To  call  her  wife — to  take  her  pure  young  life  into 
my  care  was  the  dream  of  my  youth,  the  hope  of  my 
manhood !"  exclaimed  Robert,  passionately. 

"Ah,  I  see,  my  friend,"  murmured  the  Colonel, 
sympathetically.  "But  now,  what  shall  you  do?" 

"Colonel  Whitmore,"  said  Robert,  rising  and 
regarding  his  friend  searchingly,  "I  asked  you  a 
question  once  which  you  evaded.  I  will  ask  it 
again:  If  you  had  a  daughter  who  loved  me  and 
whom  I  loved,  would  you  give  her  to  me  in  mar- 
riage ?" 

There  was  a  flicker  in  the  Colonel's  k~een,  dark 
eyes.  A  tremor  shook  his  lashes  and  flashed  over 
the  muscles  of  his  face.  He  laid  down  the  letter, 


RECOGNITION.  357 

put  his  glasses  in  their  case,  and  stood  up,  facing 
Robert  as  he  replied  with  impressive  candor: 

"Robert,  my  friend,  I  think  I  love  you  almost  as 
I  might  have  loved  a  worthy  son.  I  believe  you  are 
a  man  of  truth  and  lofty  purpose.  I  would  intrust 
you  with  my  honor,  my  life.  But  if  I  had  a  daugh- 
ter, a  fair,  God-given  creature  of  my  flesh  and  bone, 
I  could  not  break  the  sacred  law  of  race  purity  by 
giving  her  to  you  in  wedlock.  Forgive  me  that  I 
must  wound  you  with  a  truth." 

"Your  action  is  proper,  sir,  and  I  thank  you  for 
your  honesty  and  words  of  friendship,"  replied  Rob- 
ert, bravely,  but  with  tense  lines  about  lips  and  nos- 
trils. "I  shall  never  marry." 

"Ah,  you  are  yet  young;  do  not  speak  hastily. 
I  have  not  advised  you  against  marriage." 

"No,  I  have  decided  for  myself.  You  have  justi- 
fied my  decision  regarding  Flossie  Bruce.  I  feel  as 
you  do.  I  shall  write  Captain  Bruce,  and  ask  him 
to  refrain  from  mentioning  our  correspondence. 
His  daughter  is  reconciled  to  friendship.  I  shall 
not  take  the  advantage  offered  me." 

"But  you  will  meet  cultured  women  of  your  own 
caste  in  the  future,  no  doubt.  Do  not  take  the  vows 
of  celibacy.  It  is  an  inhuman  condition." 

"Not  more  inhuman  than  to  father  children 
cursed  with  racial  taint.  I  shall  never  be  faithless 
to  my  love  for  Flossie  Bruce.  I  shall  seek  my  rec- 
ompense in  labor  for  my  Master." 

"You  are  courageous,  young  man.  But  hearken ! 
Life  is  a  cold  and  barren  experience  shorn  of  the 


358  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

caressing  tenderness  of  woman's  love  and  compan- 
ionship. She  is  the  one  perfect  guerdon  of  man's 
desires.  His  innate  craving  for  domestic  felicity 
finds  neither  content  nor  solace  in  any  abode  unblest 
with  the  peculiar  association  of  his  natural  comple- 
ment. We  were  created  so — man  first,  then  woman 
to  supply  his  deficiency." 

Robert  made  no  reply.  He  was  gazing  out  of 
the  curtainless  window  with  unseeing  eyes.  Colonel 
Whitmore,  standing  beside  him,  peered  into  the 
blackness  without. 

"It  is  very  dark,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  always  so 
just  before  the  dawn.  The  day  is  at  hand,  my  young 
friend,  be  comforted." 

"I  know  the  Comforter,  sir,"  replied  Robert, 
smilingly,  "and  I  am  not  dismayed.  The  day  is 
indeed  at  hand,  and  rare  opportunities  for  doing 
good  await  me." 

"I  had  thought  to  lift  your  burden  somewhat, 
but  I  have  been  forced  to  add  to  its  sternness  in- 
stead," said  the  Colonel,  sadly,  turning  to  his  desk 
and  taking  a  document  from  it. 

"Not  so.  All  that  mortal  could  do  to  help  me 
you  have  done,  sir.  I  had  donned  my  armor  and 
set  my  face  battleward.  You  but  buckled  my  armor 
the  more  securely.  Who  could  do  more?" 

"Ah,  but  who  could  have  done  less  with  honesty, 
my  valiant  soldier?  But  hold!  there  is  the  law  of 
compensation  that  cheers  our  trials  and  rewards  our 
endeavors.  Christmas  is  at  hand.  Here  is  a  gift 
in  trust  for  the  cause  you  have  championed.  It  is 


RECOGNITION.  359 

a  deed  by  which  I  have  conveyed  to  you  the  half  of 
my  plantation,  that  you  may  found  upon  it  a  refuge 
and  training-school  for  the  outcasts  of  the  race  you 
wish  to  serve.  The  settlement  buildings  and  equip- 
ment are  included  in  the  gift,  so  that  the  crops  may 
be  continued  and  cared  for  without  immediate  out- 
lay. All  control  of  the  property  lies  with  you.  Do 
what  you  will.  I  have  implicit  confidence  in  you. 
You  will  fear  that  I  have  impoverished  myself. 
Not  so.  I  have  a  purchaser  for  the  stretch  of  fallow 
land  beyond  the  cotton  fields,  and  what  it  brings  will 
insure  my  comfort  for  the  balance  of  my  life.  I  am 
an  old  man." 

"Sir,  your  magnanimity  overcomes  me!"  ex- 
claimed Robert,  warmly.  "God  will  surely  repay 
you!" 

"Ah,  God  owes  me  nothing.  He  has  long  de- 
spaired of  getting  tribute  from  me.  This  may  be 
a  peace  offering  through  you.  But  no,  on  second 
thought  He  can  not  so  regard  this  gift,  since  I  give 
it,  not  for  His  sake  alone,  but  to  salve  my  conscience 
when  I  think  of  the  gang  I  've  used  to  my  purpose, 
and  for  your  sake  since  you  are  Dorothy's  grandson 
and  the  Major's.  And  not  only  for  your  kin  to 
them,  but  for  the  courage  of  your  heart  and  the  con- 
fidence of  your  soul  do  I  humor  your  labors  and 
indulge*  your  extravagant  hopes.  But  enough  of 
that.  Get  you  to  bed,  young  man.  You  have 
scarcely  time  to  warm  your  pillow  till  the  glare  of 
day  will  be  upon  you." 

A  night  or  two  later  Robert  and  the  Colonel, 


360  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

having  returned  from  the  plantation  through  a  chill 
wind,  were  lingering  before  a  pine-knot  fire  for  a 
chat  before  retiring,  when  a  heavy  step  on  the  porch 
was  followed  by  a  sharp  rap  on  the  door. 

"Ho,  Colonel!"  exclaimed  Rupert  Radcliffe 
when  the  door  was  opened  to  admit  him. 

"Ho,  yourself !  A  midnight  caller !"  retorted  the 
Colonel.  "You  're  abroad  with  the  owls,  are  n't 
you,  Rupert  ?" 

"Owls?  No.  It  was  a  raven  that  sat  on  my 
hearth  to-night,  croaking  like  a  black  fiend  from  the 
plutonian  shore  for  a  fact.  It  screamed  the  old  re- 
frain on  the  night  wind  that  drove  me  over  here 
with  the  marrow  freezing  in  my  bones !" 

"Ah,  be  seated  and  take  a  breath.  You  speak 
in  riddles.  What 's  the  joke, — snakes  or  hoodoos  ?" 

"Snakes?  Dry  chance  for  snakes!  Jinny 
found  my  jug  and  emptied  it  down  her  red  gullet 
before  dusk.  I  caught  her  in  the  act,  and  I  had 
nothing  but  black  coffee  to  wash  the  bacon  grease 
out  of  my  throat  after  I  'd  eaten." 

"Bad  luck,  indeed.  Sit  down,  sit  down,  and  I  '11 
brew  a  mint  julep." 

"I  '11  take  it  later,"  said  the  man,  striding  about 
the  room  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  Robert. 

"Better  sit  down,  Rupert,"  urged  the  Colonel, 
uneasily,  noting  his  visitor's  unusual  excitement. 

"Sit  down  yourself,  Colonel.  Don't  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me.  Ho,  young  Northerner! 
What 's  your  name  ?" 

Robert  glanced  up  at  his  questioner  composedly. 


RECOGNITION.  361 

"We  have  met  several  times,  sir.  You  know 
that  my  name  is  Robert  Lane." 

"So  you  say.  There  's  no  lack  of  names.  What 
is  your  father's  name?" 

"Sir!"  exclaimed  Robert,  rising  and  facing  the 
man,  with  blazing  eyes/  "by  what  authority  do  you 
presume  to  taunt  me  thus?" 

"By  the  word  of  my  black  wench,  Jinny,  who, 
too  drunk  to  hold  her  tongue,  sat  on  my  hearth  to- 
night and  croaked  off  a  tale  Chloe  heard  told  in 
this  very  room  not  long  ago.  Ho,  these  niggers 
beat  the  old  Nick  himself  at  eaves-dropping.  Name 
your  father,  young  Northerner!" 

"Name  him  yourself,  sir !" 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  stared  at  each  other, 
and  then  Rupert  Radcliffe  whirled  toward  the 
Colonel. 

"Look,  he  is  like  my  father,  Colonel !"  he  said. 
"And  he  is  like  his  mother,  Patra  Dunbar,  too." 

"Yes,  I  have  noticed  those  resemblances." 

"He  is  my  son!" 

"Without  doubt.     I  wish  he  were  mine." 

"Ho,  good  enough!"  cried  the  man,  tearing  off 
his  gloves  and  flinging  them  on  the  floor  beside  his 
hat.  "Young  blood,  your  father's  name  is  Rupert 
Radcliffe!  Shake  on  it!" 

"And  what  was  my  mother  to  you,  sir?"  asked 
Robert,  ignoring  the  proffered  hand. 

"Ho,  that 's  the  rub,  is  it  ?  It 's  not  enough  that 
I  own  you,  my  son  ?" 

"No,  sir!" 


362  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Well,  then,  your  mother  was  my  first  wife.  She 
deserted  me  a  few  weeks  before  your  birth.  I 
divorced  her  afterwards.  It  is  n't  difficult  for  a 
white  man  to  divorce  a  negress." 

"So  it  appears.  Your  laws  are  elastic  when  they 
encircle  a  white  man,  but  they  are  iron  when  they 
bind  a  Negro,"  said  Robert,  bitterly.  "But  your 
contract  with  my  mother  was  not  void  till  her  de- 
sertion of  you  made  it  voidable.  You  falsified  when 
you  told  her  it  was." 

"Ho,  what  're  you  after?" 

"Nothing1.  I  ask  nothing  of  the  Radcliffes — 
neither  name  nor  other  recognition." 

"Your  grandmother  has  a  fine  spread  of  land. 
You  should  share  it  with  my  brother  Jason's 
daughter." 

"I  make  no  claim.  I  wish  my  grandmother  and 
my  Cousin  Victory  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  my 
relation  to  them." 

"You  still  refuse  to  take  rny  hand,  do  you?" 
asked  Rupert,  sadly. 

"To  what  end  ?"  faltered  Robert,  impressed  with 
the  sudden  change  that  had  come  over  the  man. 
"If  for  friendship  only — I  do  not  wish  to  live  at 
enmity  with  any  one — my  friendship  is  for  your 
refusal." 

"I  '11  take  what  you  '11  give.  Your  hand  on 
friendship,  then." 

"On  your  word  to  refrain  from  exposing  your 
former  relation  to  my  mother,  who  is  coming  to 
make  a  home  for  me  at  the  settlement." 


RECOGNITION.  363 

"Ho,  and  let  the  name  of  Radcliffe  die  out?" 

"Would  you  wish  to  perpetuate  the  Radcliffe 
family  through  me,  sir?" 

"Ho,  the  fiends !"  groaned  the  man,  dropping  into 
a  chair  and  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  cradling 
his  forehead  in  his  hands. 

"Robert  is  right,  Rupert,"  interposed  Colonel 
Whitmore.  "The  Radcliffes  came  of  noble  lineage. 
No  man  can  honorably  father  two  races.  Better 
let  the  name  die  out  than  continue  it  through  a  de- 
generating posterity." 

"Ho,  Robert  is  a  truer  Radcliffe  than  I,  who  was 
born  a  thoroughbred.  And  he  is  a  better  man!" 
declared  Rupert  Radcliffe,  picking  up  his  hat  and 
gloves. 

"Yes,  in  spite  of  your  sin  being  visited  upon  him, 
he  is  a  truer  Radcliffe  and  a  better  man  than  you, 
Rupert;  but  that  does  not  cleanse  his  blood  of  its 
taint.  Enough  of  that.  Wait,  wait,  Rupert!  The 
shadows  are  thick  outside,  and  your  heart  is  full  of 
sorrow.  It  is  cheery  here ;  wait  in  the  firelight  and 
I  will  brew  the  mint- julep." 

"Ho,  you  know  my  lame  foot !  I  '11  wait  for  the 
julep.  Jinny  is  drunk — the  hearth  is  black — and 
only  the  fiendish  raven  will  be  there  to  greet  me. 
I  '11  wait  for  the  julep,  but  make  it  stout,  and  the 
fiends  take  the  raven!" 

When  the  Colonel  had  left  the  room  Robert  ap- 
proached his  father,  and  said  softly : 

"Here  is  my  hand,  sir;  we  have  need  of  each 
other;  let  us  be  friends." 


364  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"Ho,  as  father  and  son,  I  'd  give — but  I  hear  the 
raven  croak.  Yes,  I  '11  take  what  you  '11  give.  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  I  've  little  enough  but  sins,  God 
knows.  Still  if  I  've  aught  you  covet,  it  shall  be 
yours !" 

"I  covet  your  greatest  gift  for  my  men.  Come 
with  me  to  the  settlement  as  often  as  you  can,  and 
bring  your  violin.  Let  my  brothers  feel  the  trans- 
port of  your  music  as  I  have  felt  it.  When  you 
weave  your  spells  with  string  and  bow,  I  feel  the 
thrill  of  kindred  ties  and  my  soul  beholds  in  your 
eyes  dim  visions  of  paradise  beyond  the  cypress 
groves  of  earth.  At  such  time  we  shall  be  father 
and  son." 

"Then  I  will  go  with  you  often,  often,  my — my 
son,"  whispered  Rupert  Radcliffe,  huskily. 


In  the  meantime  Eric  Horine  and  Victory  had 
spent  several  weeks  at  the  old  Radcliffe  mansion. 
Its  proud  mistress,  delighted  with  her  young  rela- 
tives and  aroused  by  the  prospect  of  brighter  days, 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  new  lease  on  life.  Recog- 
nizing Victory  as  her  heir,  she  set  about  trying  to 
persuade  the  young  couple  to  remain  on  the  plan- 
tation, proposing  to  give  them  full  control  and  ask- 
ing for  herself  only  a  home  and  support  while  she 
lived. 

Victory,  fascinated  with  the  South,  was  easily 
persuaded.  She  longed  to  restore  the  mansion  to 
some  semblance  of  its  olden  grandeur,  and  if  pos- 
sible retrieve  the  Radcliffe  fortunes.  But  Eric,  lack- 


RECOGNITION.  365 

ing  funds  and  foreseeing  many  difficulties,  besides 
having  ambitions  remote  from  life  on  a  plantation, 
for  which  he  had  neither  taste  nor  fitness,  declined 
to  consider  the  proposition.  The  old  lady  was  dis- 
appointed, but  found  some  consolation  in  Victory's 
promise  to  visit  her  often,  and  a  short  time  after 
the  return  of  the  young  couple  to  the  North  a  fresh 
discovery  claimed  her  attention. 

The  next  morning  after  his  late  visit  at  Colonel 
Whitmore's,  Rupert  Radcliffe  rapped  at  his  mother's 
door  for  the  first  time  in  many  years. 

"What  brings  you  here,  Rupert?"  she  asked,  sus- 
piciously. "I  have  no  money  to  give  you." 

"Ho,  wait  till  I  ask  for  money,  mother.  I  Ve 
come  to  speak  of  my  son." 

"Your  son  ?    Your  children  are  dead." 

"My  eldest  son  lives.  He  was  born  of  Patra 
Dunbar  a  few  weeks  after  her  flight  from  here." 

"What  is  the  offspring  of  Patra  Dunbar  to  me? 
Your  relation  with  her  was  illegal." 

"I  chose  to  pronounce  it  so.  The  bond  was  legal 
enough  on  the  face  of  it.  I  acted  the  dog,  mother ; 
but  you  drove  me  to  it." 

"Indeed !  Did  you  ever  act  other  than  the  dog, 
Rupert?" 

"Ho,  I  did  n't  come  here  to  quarrel,  mother,  nor 
to  ask  a  bone  for  myself.  I  came  to  inform  you  of 
a  fact  you  would  do  well  to  consider.  My  son  re- 
fuses the  name  of  Radcliffe,  and  asks  neither  recog- 
nition nor  favor  of  us.  But  I  wanted  you  to  know 
about  him.  He  is  like  my  father," 


366  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"The  Major?  Impossible!"  declared  the  old 
lady,  scornfully. 

"So  it  would  seem.  See  him  for  yourself;  but 
mind,  his  relation  to  the  family  is  his  secret  and 
mine,  not  yours.  I  have  trespassed  upon  his  wishes 
in  this  confidence." 

"Where  is  your  son,  and  what  name  does  he 
bear?" 

"You  have  heard  of  him  often  enough,  I  '11 
wager,  from  Jason's  daughter  and  her  husband,  and 
from  Colonel  Whitmore.  He  is  known  as  Robert 
Lane." 

"Robert  Lane?  Robert  Lane?"  questioned  the 
old  lady,  excitedly.  "Not  the  Colonel's  protege — 
that  kingly  young  fellow  whom  he  adores?" 

"The  same  Robert  Lane !" 

"Then  I  must  see  him !  I  invited  him  to  come 
with  the  Colonel  to  dinner  while  Victory  and  Eric 
were  here,  but  he  declined.  I  shall  ask  the  two  to 
dine  with  me  to-night.  Call  Dosie  and  Jas." 

"Have  a  care.  I  hold  you  to  silence.  Besides, 
Robert  goes  to  the  plantation  every  evening." 

"Then  they  shall  lunch  with  me  to-morrow 
noon." 

And  so  it  transpired,  for  the  Colonel,  receiving 
a  private  message  from  Mrs.  Radcliffe,  prevailed 
upon  Robert  to  accept  the  invitation.  After  her 
guests  had  departed  Mrs.  Radcliffe  sent  for  her  son, 
and  when  he  came  reached  out  her  trembling  hands 
in  welcome,  crying : 


RECOGNITION.  367 

"Rupert,  Rupert,  for  the  sake  of  the  Major's 
grandson  I  forgive  your  sins  against  me!  Come 
home,  my  son,  let  us  live  in  peace.  Come  home,  and 
while  I  live  you  shall  be  master  of  the  plantation." 

"But  after  your  death?  Who  shall  inherit  the 
property  ?" 

"You  shall  divide  it  with  Jason's  daughter,  and 
your  son  shall  be  your  heir." 


XXX. 
HEARTENING  PROSPECTS. 

THE  last  week  of  the  year  was  one  of  importance 
at  the  Whitmore  plantation.  The  cotton  was  being 
marketed,  and  the  Negroes  were  anticipating  New- 
Year's  day  as  the  time  when  a  final  estimate  of  the 
year's  expenses  would  be  deducted  from  the  returns 
of  the  enormous  crop  and  the  profits  divided. 

Robert  had  told  the  gang  of  Colonel  Whitmoie's 
generous  gift  and  its  purpose,  briefly  outlining  his 
plan  for  the  establishment  of  a  training  station  on 
Christmas-day.  On  each  subsequent  evening  he  had 
entered  more  and  more  fully  into  the  details  of  his 
project,  hoping  to  enthuse  the  men  and  win  their 
voluntary  decision  to  remain  at  the  settlement  as 
co-workers  in  the  establishment  of  the  school,  con- 
tinuing their  studies  as  the  original  class  and  bene- 
ficiaries of  the  institution. 

Robert  Lane  received  a  bulky  envelope  the  day 
before  New- Year's.  It  contained  a  formal  notice 
that  the  citizens  of  Payson  Bend  had  subscribed, 
and  properly  invested,  the  sum  of  eighty  thousand 
dollars  as  a  memorial  to  the  name  of  Liberty  Des- 
pard,  the  benefit  being  designated  as  the  "Liberty 
Despard  Mission  Fund,"  and  dedicated  to  the  ad- 
368 


HEARTENING  PROSPECTS.  369 

vancement  of  the  American  Negro,  spiritually  and 
educationally.  The  delighted  young  missionary  was 
furthermore  informed  that  the  annual  interests  of  the 
fund  would  be  paid  into  his  hands  for  disbursement, 
according  to  the  terms  of  the  accompanying  docu- 
ment, so  long  as  he  labored  as  a  benefactor  of  the 
colored  race.  A  number  of  letters  and  resolutions 
from  various  citizens  and  societies  of  Payson  Bend, 
extending  expressions  of  encouragement  and  com- 
mendation of  his  chosen  work,  were  included  in  the 
envelope  with  the  formal  announcement  of  the  gift, 
and  were  extremely  gratifying  to  the  recipient. 

The  timely  provision  was  a  Godsend,  and  re- 
lieved Robert  of  much  anxiety  as  well  as  leaving 
him  free  to  devote  his  entire  time  to  the  work  whose 
possibilities  were  now  furnished  with  a  solid  basis, 
and  whose  prospects  were  full  of  promise. 

But  of  all  the  good  fortune  so  wonderfully 
crowning  Robert  Lane's  prayers  and  labors,  perhaps 
none  was  more  gratifying  or  prophetic  of  blessed 
results  than  the  evidence  of  aroused  ambition  and 
loyalty  given  by  the  gang  he  had  so  unselfishly 
served. 

The  Negroes  received  their  portions  of  the  har- 
vest at  noon  on  New- Year's  day,  and  spent  the 
afternoon  in  coming  to  a  decision  as  to  their  imme- 
diate course.  They  had  been  formally  released  from 
every  obligation,  and  were  free  to  go  at  will;  but 
Robert  had  asked  them  to  remain  in  a  body  until 
after  the  program  he  had  prepared  for  the  evening. 
And  to  that  end  the  empty  warehouse,  which  had 


37°  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

been  used  for  an  assembly  room  since  the  cold 
weather  had  set  in,  was  lighted  and  occupied  earlier 
than  usual. 

After  a  short,  miscellaneous  program  Robert 
told  the  story  of  Liberty  Despard's  life  and  desire 
to  benefit  her  race,  dwelling  upon  her  faith  and  con- 
secration, and  making  it  plain  that  her  influence  had 
been  the  inspiration  that  won  the  magnificent  benefit 
which  he  then  proceeded  to  explain,  under  its  term, 
as  the  "Liberty  Despard  Mission  Fund." 

The  Negroes  were  visibly  affected  by  the  well- 
told  story ;  but  it  is  probable  that  Dan  and  Nero  had 
previously  exerted  sufficient  influence  to  shape  the 
course  of  the  gang.  Be  that  as  it  may,  Robert  had 
scarcely  closed  his  address  when  Dan,  acting  as 
spokesman,  sprang  up  and  explained  that  the  gang, 
with  the  exception  of  one  man,  had  decided  to  re- 
main at  the  settlement  for  another  year  as  field 
laborers  and  helpers  in  the  establishment  of  the  new 
school,  and  as  members  of  a  night  class  or  other 
session,  upon  whatever  terms  Robert  Lane  might 
dictate.  Hardly  able  to  wait  till  Dan's  talk  was  fin- 
ished, the  Negroes  of  one  accord  crowded  around 
Robert,  to  heap  in  his  hands  the  bits  of  blue  paper 
which  represented  their  individual  shares  in  the  har- 
vest. It  was  their  free-will  offering  toward  the  new 
enterprise. 

Deeply  moved  at  this  yielding  of  their  all  to  the 
cause  they  had  so  lately  learned  to  love,  Robert  com- 
mended the  generosity  of  the  men,  and  proposed  the 
investment  of  their  combined  gift  in  the  construe- 


HEARTENING  PROSPECTS.  371 

tion  of  a  comfortable  dormitory,  with  bathroom  at- 
tached, for  their  especial  use  so  long  as  they  re- 
mained on  the  premises.  The  idea  of  appropriating 
so  much  luxury  rather  amazed  the  Negroes  at  first, 
but  they  were  easily  led  to  consent  to  the  plan,  and 
Robert  promised  to  prepare  estimates  immediately 
so  that  the  building  might  be  erected  at  once. 

Ham,  the  one  exception  to  the  general  agree- 
ment, had  announced  his  intention  to  leave  the  plan- 
tation with  Loozy  as  soon  as  he  was  released;  but 
Robert  persuaded  the  pair  to  be  properly  married 
before  going  away.  To  that  end  Colonel  Whitmore 
brought  a  minister  out  to  the  settlement  to  perform 
the  ceremony  at  the  close  of  the  evening's  entertain- 
ment. It  was  ten  o'clock  when  the  rite  was  pro- 
nounced. The  Negroes  were  in  a  hilarious  mood, 
and  it  was  difficult  to  restrain  them  during  the  sacred 
ceremony.  For  that  "Ham  's  gwinter  take  up  wid 
dat  fool  Loozy"  was  to  them  a  plain  and  amusing 
fact,  which  the  solemn  words  of  the  minister  neither 
altered  nor  emphasized. 

It  is  likely  that  the  newly-wedded  pair  would 
have  met  with  some  embarrassments  in  leaving  the 
settlement  had  not  Rupert  Radcliffe  made  the  way 
of  their  escape  easy  by  holding  the  gang  spellbound 
for  an  hour  or  more  after  the  ceremony  with  his 
violin. 

When  Colonel  Whitmore,  the  minister,  Robert, 
and  Rupert  Radcliffe  were  driving  homeward  in  the 
ancient  coach  at  the  close  of  the  evening's  various 
happenings,  the  latter  said : 


372  HILDA  LANE'S  ADOPTIONS. 

"I  've  been  up  to  the  capital  again,  Colonel." 

"To  what  purpose?"  questioned  the  colonel, 
quickly. 

"I  spent  the  night  with  our  friend,  the  governor. 
Ho,  what  think  you  ?" 

"Success !" 

"To  the  tune  of  an  appropriation  for  Robert's 
school,  which  will  be  forthcoming  in  the  future." 

"Thank  you,  sir!"  exclafrned  Robert,  fervently, 
returning  the  tender  pressure  of  his  father's  hand, 
which  had  sought  his  in  the  dark.  "As  my  foster 
mother,  Hilda  Lane,  would  say,  'It 's  plain  a  plenty 
that  God  's  at  the  head  of  things !'  " 

"Ho,  and  it 's  always  plain  who  's  at  the  heels 
of  the  hindermost/'  responded  Rupert  Radciiffe. 

"God's  mercy  is  a  charmed  circle  that  we  may 
be  empowered  to  cast  between  the  hindermost  and 
that  evil  host.  And  theirs  is  the  extremity  of  need. 
They  should  be  the  children  of  our  protection  and 
the  pensioners  of  our  warmest  compassion  and  rich- 
est gifts,"  replied  Robert  Lane,  gravely. 

"Amen !"  added  the  minister,  softly. 


UC  SOUTHERN I  RKIONALLIBRARYFAOUTY 


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